


The Grandfather Clock

by floweringjudas (manipulant)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Coming Out, Coming of Age, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Gen, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2011-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 06:39:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manipulant/pseuds/floweringjudas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Jr wants a summer job; his Mum suggests he help out Uncle Perce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Grandfather Clock

**Author's Note:**

> author's note 3/29/2017: James develops a largely one-sided crush on his uncle and flirts with him. There is a kiss. There is nothing more. As it remains unrequited and sort of innocent, I didn't think it warranted an incest tag, but forewarned is forearmed, I guess.

 

The house itself was, of course, all tidiness and minimalism and tasteful decorations, even _after_ Audrey left - perhaps _because_ she left, James realised as he was ushered through. His Uncle Perce had always kept his home, his privacy closely guarded; he could count on one hand the number of times there had been Weasley Family Gatherings there during his childhood. He had sometimes envied Molly and Lucy this, the untouchability of their residence, the security that must have come from knowing that their rooms weren't open to the Potter-Weasley-Granger hybrid zoo for snooping, as his had been.

He was taken through the living room (hah, Perce had a telly - the Weasley Muggle-loving trait hadn't completely passed him over, then), and after that through the kitchen. Totally spotless, almost oddly so - James glanced over at his uncle, at the pronounced cheekbones and the sharp hollows of his throat, and wondered _what_ he ate, if indeed he ever did. And then, against the wall by the door -

"Hey, you have a clock like Gram's."

Percy paused in the quick tour, and glanced over at the clock as well. "Ah. Yes," he said, squinting at it as if he hadn't noticed it there for years. They paused long enough for James to realise that Audrey's name wasn't on it (well, made sense and all, they hadn't been together for years), and that Molly's clock hand was pointing at "Home" even though James _knew_ she was off tutoring Little Lord Malfoy for the summer. "Yes, a wedding gift."

"Huh." James couldn't quite think of anything to say. Anything that wasn't prying and a little insulting, anyway. (Gram's clock was crowded to the point of obscurity nowadays, given the amount of offspring demanding inclusion, and Uncle Perce's clock only had the three hands.)

Uncle Perce cleared his throat, and lurched back into movement, opening the back door for him, to the bit of yard attached to the house. "There's really not much to do, no... _garden gnomes_ to deal with," Percy said, obviously suppressing a shudder at the memory of Gram's dilapidated attempts at gardening. "A few rows of vegetables in the far corner there," he said, moving swiftly onto the grass, not looking behind to see if James was following. "I suppose you could weed them."

James sighed, and stepped out onto the lawn, jogging a few paces to catch up. "Suppose. Honestly, though, Uncle Perce, I think Mum just wanted me out of her hair for a bit."

Percy stopped, and turned, and actually _looked_ at him for the first time since his arrival. "Oh." He frowned a little, his eyebrows knitting together, obviously confused. "She said you were looking to earn a bit of pocket money."

"Yeah, well, she _would_ say that, seeing as she wouldn't let me get a _real_ job this summer," James grumbled, reliving all the arguments he and his mum had had over the last fortnight. "It wasn't just helping out Uncle George in the shop either, this time, Flourish and Blotts actually _firecalled_ and she wouldn't - " he huffed, folding his arms across his chest, shaking his head. "She says they just want an excuse to get to Dad. Not that I could actually be _good_ at working in a bookshop, thick sod like me, obviously it's just because I'm a _Potter_ ," he spat, a little surprised at the venom in his words and voice as soon as they left him. He glanced over nervously, and found his uncle regarding him with a curious look on his face. Equal parts wariness and...appreciation, James thought. Possibly.

" _Obviously_ ," Uncle Perce drawled a moment later, and James blinked at him in surprise before he snorted and cracked a grin. Jesus, Uncle Perce making jokes, would wonders never cease. Et cetera et cetera. "Come on, I can't pretend I'll pay as well as Flourish and Blotts would have, but I'll let you rearrange my bookshelves tomorrow, since you had your heart set on it."

"Oh, _goody_ ," James sighed, and trudged after Perce to the vegetable patch to learn the difference between squash and weeds and which ones wanted pulling.

 

***

 

The next day he _did_ rearrange Uncle Perce's bookshelves. Or at least, he got about a half hour into the job before Percy realised James was arranging them by _colour_ and gave a really ridiculously girly shriek (he'd have to remember to tell Ron and George about that later) and ordered him away from the book collection.

So James found himself watching a series of truly crap Muggle daytime television programmes, eating a tomato sandwich, and exchanging occasional witticisms with the uncle who, up to last week, had never seemed to speak to him unless it was to ask him how school was going.

Life was funny sometimes, James reflected as he bit into his sandwich. Around them, the house was filled with an airy mid-morning light, bright and blue and refreshing as the curtains stirred every now and then with the breeze from outside. The tinny sound of tv adverts was providing enough background noise to stave off an uncomfortable silence, and from the kitchen, James could barely hear the hiss and gurgle of Percy's Muggle coffeemaker. (Percy always had a full pot, no matter the hour. It was weird, but James was certain there was a story there, which didn't make it so much weird as interesting.)

It was sort of a shock to realise Uncle Perce was a real _person_ , James mused, as he watched his uncle grimace and peel the skins off his tomatoes before putting them back on his bread. "Picky," he teased, for lack of anything better to say, and nudged Percy's elbow with his own. Perce gave him that wary look again, before his face relaxed a bit and he gave a funny one-shouldered shrug.

"I don't enjoy eating things that are the consistency of plastic, thankyou," he said primly. And then he picked up one of the tomato skins and flicked it onto James's bare arm, and smirked at the squawk his nephew gave.

The adverts ended, so they watched the rest of the programme in relative silence, finishing their sandwiches. Then, as they waited for the next round of mind-numbing "entertainment" to begin, James turned and gave the man sitting beside him a squinty look. "Is it always this quiet in here?" he asked.

Uncle Perce's eyebrows raised. "Generally, yes," he answered truthfully. "Especially now that the girls have gone."

"You don't find it a bit lonely?"

Oho, Percy frowned a little bit at that, and James suddenly knew he was skating on thin ice. "No, I like it," Perce said, a touch defensively. "I suppose it is different to your own home."

"You could say so, yeah," James agreed. He tilted his head, resting it on the sofa cushion behind them, still gazing at his uncle. "Nice, though. I mean," he hastened, in a disconcerting effort to explain himself, "it _is_ lonely. A bit. But it's not... _sad_. Sort of peaceful," he concluded lamely.

Percy watched him curiously, with the same mix of appreciation and edge as before. Eventually, he nodded, and brought his elbow up to rest his upper arm on the back of the sofa, his hand dangling down towards his plate. "A bit sad, sometimes," he admitted after another small pause, his voice quiet.

"Yeah, but." James screwed up his face, trying to think of the right words, and gave up after a second, scooting to face Perce and gesture the right meaning. "It's not like an epic tragedy or - I dunno. It's a sweet sort of hurt. Yeah?"

Percy, his hand still hovering an inch above his sandwich, gave James the glimmerings of a smile. "I - yes, that seems about right. Yes."

 

***

 

James had to haggle Perce down from the ludicrous 50 Sickles he and Ginny had originally agreed on, because truth to tell, he'd done fuckall around the house. "C'mon, Uncle Perce, I'm not taking your money for sitting on your sofa and watching telly," he argued, feeling a right idiot for turning down free money, and cursing himself and his dad and his dad's dad for being Gryffindors all the while.

"You weeded the vegetables. And you fixed the cabinet door. And..." Percy floundered, hilariously, for something else. "And you helped get rid of excess tomatoes."

James boggled at him. "So you're trying to pay me for eating your food." He laughed and ran a hand through his hair. "Mental. Look, I'll take twenty of your hard-earned Sickles just to be _kind_ , but taking any more would be highway robbery and I'm afraid I can't bend my uncompromising principles for your gratification."

Uncle Perce flushed and gave him a weird, petulant little look. "I promised your mum I'd give you fifty. She's going to give me an earful."

"She's not," James said, confident in his own abilities. "I'll tell her you gave me fifty and that I already blew the rest on sex, drugs, and rock and roll." He relished the small snort Perce gave at that, and insisted on Percy letting him sweep out the shed in the back yard before he went home, just to compound his own saintliness.

 

***

 

James knew he was in for it by the beady look Mum gave him as he came into the kitchen that evening. She was busy chopping things in preparation for throwing them into a pot and calling it dinner (lovely), and hadn't been singing Celestina Warbeck like she usually did, so James _thought_ he might be able to sidestep a grilling. Other things on her mind, obviously. He opened the door to the fridge wide and ducked behind it for a moment, hoping to distract her by the temporary invisibility.

No such luck. "So, what does Uncle Perce have you doing?"

 _Shit_. James sighed and straightened up, a carafe of milk in hand. "Gardening, taking care of the lawn. Outside stuff, mostly," he said, thinking it prudent not to mention the telly and the soaps and the aborted attempt at book-arranging. "Oh, he said something about the attic needing cleaning," he invented suddenly - huh, he'd have to remember that one, suggest it to Perce later. It'd give him something to do.

Mum trained an incredulous look on him, and levitated a pile of chopped carrots and onions into the pot. "Gardening and attic-cleaning."

James gave her a hurt look. "Yeah?"

She snorted and shrugged, smiling a private little mum smile, full of schadenfreude and twelve kinds of wry, as she gave the pot a quick stir with her wand. "You know, _we_ have an attic too," she insinuated.

"Yeah, only difference being, Uncle Perce will actually _pay_ me to clean his, whereas you and Dad will just tell me it'll build character," James said quickly, not wanting that idea to take root in her head. Mum gave a little laugh, and shrugged a shoulder, which he took as agreement. "Get Albus to do it."

"Your brother's busy revising," Mum said patiently.

"Right, yeah, _revising_ ," James snorted, rolling his eyes. "Thought he was just sitting up in his room, toss - er, mooning over Daisy Parkinson's latest letter," he grumbled.

"No doubt there's a fair bit of that going on as well," Mum conceded, making a little moue of disapproval as she threw a few spices into the pot. "Boys are such strange creatures."

"Oi!"

She didn't even turn around, but James could _tell_ she'd rolled her eyes. "Not you, Jamie, you're a _man_ now, aren't you," she teased, taking a sip of the broth. "And don't drink from the carton."

James brought the carafe down from his lips quickly, guiltily, and wondered _how the hell she did that_. "S'not a carton, it's made from glass," he muttered sulkily.

"Don't be stupid, put it back, dinner's almost ready."

"Can't help it, it's genetic," he shot back, smirking a little, pleased with himself. He took a swig from the carafe to punctuate his victory, and his mother gave him a glance over her shoulder and then pelted him with a bit of carrot, right between the eyes. James squawked and rubbed where it had hit, and, not for the first time, wished he had a nice normal mum who didn't have the expert aim and throwing arm of a Quidditch player.

"Yes, I know, I blame your father," she sighed placidly, grinning at her direct hit. She turned to face him and gave him another searching look, one that made him intensely uncomfortable. "It's sweet of you to go over there and help Percy out."

He gave her another dubious look. "Well, he is _paying_ me."

"Yes, but." She shrugged, and spelled the cups and plates onto the table. "He's on his own too much, over there."

James blinked, and gave her a confused little frown. "Seems all right," he said, noncommittal, feeling oddly _guilty_ for talking about Perce like this while he wasn't around to defend himself.

"Well." Mum frowned, and took the pot off the cooker, and hauled it towards the table. "He's always been very good at _seeming_. Here, go get your brother, and put some silverware on the table. Dinner's ready."

 

***

 

it was too hot to sleep, and too hot to revise, but that didn't stop James from attempting both. He lay on his bed, shirtless and trying to ignore how the sweat on his back kept trickling along his spine, tickling, and gazed unseeing at the words down on his NEWT-level Arithmancy book.

Eventually he gave up and flopped over, onto his back, exhaling heavily at the unfairnesses of the universe and their conspirings to make him _this bloody bored_. Outside the open window, the nighttime stars twinkled in an especially grating way.

James huffed, and wiped his forehead with a corner of his bedsheet, and closed his eyes - the house was still and quiet with sleep, and it reminded him of Uncle Perce's, which reminded him of the pruning he was going to have to do the next day, which reminded him of watching telly, which reminded him that he hadn't really figured out what Mum was on about the other day when she asked after Perce.

Obviously there were things Mum wasn't saying - she was good at being really obvious about _not saying_ things - and James found himself musing over what they might be.

He knew that Uncle Perce had had some sort of falling-out with Gram and Grandpa before the war. Didn't really know the details, Mum and Dad had always been a bit shirty about providing those, but it wasn't good, whatever had happened. James sort-of remembered Mum and Gram having a few long, whispered discussions at the Burrow just after Audrey left - he was a kid, but he still remembered seeing Gram's tears, the way Mum hugged her tight at the end of every visit there for months.

The thing was, James couldn't quite square the Uncle Perce he'd grown up with (silent, stiff, white-knuckled) with the Uncle Perce that watched soaps with him and showed him the difference between squash and courgette vines. Obviously, the new almost-cool Uncle Perce had always existed, but it made James a bit uncomfortable to think that he had never known it, that he had taken for granted that Uncle Ron and Uncle George had always been right that Perce had the personality of a cardboard sandwich.

So, part of the problem was family. James could certainly understand _that_. He loved his family, sure, but being the Man Who Lived's eldest boy was more taxing than it had any right to be, and there was always a certain emphasis on how things would _look_ to the rest of the wizarding public, especially if he, James, carried on doing stupid things like waltzing around Hogsmeade as Voldemort-inna-dress for Halloween.

Dad and Uncle Ron had thought it was hilarious, but god how Mum had shrieked.

All right. So. Something that kept Uncle Perce at a distance from the rest of them. Obviously it had started up again when Audrey left (he could barely remember Aunt Audrey, which was awful, he knew, but - talk about cardboard sandwiches), and obviously the grownups knew things they weren't telling.

Jesus, maybe Uncle Perce had had an affair? James thrilled at the thought, the prospect of scandal, before he remembered that this was _Uncle Perce_ he was trying to figure out, skinny lanky speccy Uncle _Perce_ , vaguely reminiscent of a particularly apologetic-looking _cricket_. That he'd ever managed to bag a bird in the first place was a bit of a miracle.

Well, all right, so that wasn't exactly fair. He wasn't _ugly_ , was Perce, he had the height on his side, so that he didn't look like a big ginger block like Charlie and George did. He _was_ too skinny, all bones and angles, and he was too pale, sometimes his skin looked almost _blue_.

But he had a nice smile. _When_ he smiled. And he was funny - the sort of dry semi-bitter everything-is-total-crap-but-what-can-you-do funny that James particularly appreciated. And he did have nice hair, James envied him the hair, and hoped that since Perce wasn't going bald that meant male pattern baldness wasn't across the board in Weasley DNA.

So the affair hypothesis wasn't completely out. It would take a certain kind of woman, sure - James didn't pretend to be an expert on the female mind, but he sort of figured that the prospect of a lover who looked like he could be snapped in two by a particularly forceful hug wasn't _very_ appealing to most girls.

Which thought suddenly posed a question that sent James reeling: Might not prove appealing to girls, maybe. But - boys?

Oh, _shit_. James shot up out of bed, stood up, galvanised into movement by his immediate surety that he had figured out the whole fucking thing. " _Shit_ ," he breathed, feelingly. Uncle Perce was _gay_.

Uncle Percy was gay. Which was why Aunt Audrey had left. Which was why he let his girls stay with friends and family so often. Which was why he hadn't got remarried or even had a _girlfriend_ in the ten or so years since he'd been divorced. Which was why he was always so _weird_ around Uncle Ron and Uncle George and - oh, god.

James swallowed, and turned a little green as a batch of memories took on new meanings. He had always thought Uncle George's running joke of charming sprigs of mistletoe to follow Perce around during family Christmas parties was a bit weird, but now he knew it for the cruelty it was, for the needling spectacle of seeing Percy the Ponce Actually Kiss a Girl.

And oh god, _Gram_ \- James winced as he remembered Sunday dinners, back when Percy actually _came_ to them. The questions, audible even to the kiddie table, about those Nice Ministry Girls Percy had lunch with. The hope in Gram's eyes and voice as she asked if she'd have to set another plate next week. The way Molly and Luce would pick at their food and go quiet, same way their father did, until he finally came over to the kids' table and sat with them and took them home early.

God, no _wonder_ , James thought viciously, kicking the side of his desk. No _fucking wonder_ Perce stayed holed up in his house and barely let anyone in. James fumed silently, and vowed to punch Uncle George next time he could. He couldn't exactly punch Gram (besides, he'd heard enough stories to know that Gram was fucking _scary_ in a fight), but maybe he could insult her cooking, or something.

Or - and this thought brought him up short - maybe James was wrong. About the entire thing.

Nah, now that he'd thought it, he couldn't _un_ think it, and Uncle Perce was...pretty damned gay. Not a screaming queen or anything, but - it made sense. The unexpectedly prim moments, the way he fussed over his hair whenever he passed a mirror, the emphasis on Plato, Wilde and Marlowe in his book collection...

No, James thought. No, he _couldn't_ be wrong.

Though really, there was only one way to be sure, wasn't there?

 

***

 

"Got the pruning done," James said, collapsing down onto the sofa, butterbeer in hand. Uncle Perce made a small noise of approbation, but didn't look away from the screen of the telly, where apparently some serious shit was about to go down. Something about secret evil twins. James blinked, and set his drink on the coffee table, and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, to watch the scene. He cracked a smile at the way Percy huffed and conjured a coaster underneath the sweating bottle.

"This is such shit," he said, after a few stilted lines of dialogue.

"Mm," Perce agreed, nursing an ice lolly, still watching, rapt.

They kept silent for the rest of the scene, til the adverts came on, and then James sighed and let his head drop, rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. "Boiling outside."

"Horrible. Thank Merlin for cooling charms," Percy murmured, his eyes a little glassy from too much television. James grinned at him, apropos of nothing, and Percy gave him a little smile back, bemused. "What?"

"Nothing." James paused, and felt the brief, terrifying, stomach-dropping sensation of falling forward off a cliff. " You know, you should really get remarried. Give you something to do other than watch this crap."

Percy snorted, his smile widening a little at that. "Right, yes, good idea. Don't know why I didn't think of that earlier." James laughed a little, as well, relieved that Perce hadn't immediately got all weird at him.

"Yeah, put it in your diary."

"Next month, maybe. Though I don't know where I'll find a photographer on such short notice."

"Or a bride, for that matter," James reminded him, pleased that the idea had taken off.

"Ah, true. I forgot about that. Might have to put it off to the month after next."

"Well, you could find a groom instead."

It was amazing, how quickly the smile on Percy's face withered and died. His eyes went wide and nervous, and he quickly glanced over at James, looking for clues as to how to proceed - whether to laugh, or continue the joke, or change the subject altogether. James held his gaze steadily, and after a few painful seconds, he gave Uncle Perce a small, crooked grin, and reached a hand out to poke his thigh. "You could, Perce," he said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet and soft, for that one moment.

Percy's shoulders slumped, which meant that he was _breathing_ again, which was good. His eyes were no less watchful, but they'd lost most of the fear they'd held a few seconds before. "It's..." he began, but he trailed off, the sentence dying in his throat. So he cleared it, and reached over quickly, swiping James's bottle of butterbeer to take a swig to steady his voice. James watched him as Percy made a small face and wiped the condensation off the bottle with his hand, and wiped it on the corner of his shirt. After a moment of fidgeting, he sighed, and stilled.

"Only if I married a Muggle," he murmured, and took another sip of butterbeer before reaching to set it back on the coaster. James watched him, immobile - watched Percy fold his arms tight around his chest, watched his expression shutter as he went back to gazing at the television screen. There was an unfamiliar wrench, a twist in James's chest at that, and he reached over to give his uncle's knee a quick squeeze, before he sat up and slouched back. Perce jumped at the touch.

"Fuckers," James muttered a moment later, and grabbed his butterbeer, draining it all in one go.

"Indeed."

 

***

 

The attic had been a surprising, though not unwelcome, idea - it had kept James busy for almost a week and a half. It also kept him from being too much in his uncle's way. And it pleased him to see the haphazard mess of a family slowly being converted into rows of sealed, labelled containers. Which would've shocked his mum, he knew, considering the tip-like state of his own bedroom at home.

A row of boxes for Luce, a bigger row for Molly (she had more parchments and essays and girly crap like pressed corsages and a few hilarious notes from that Hufflepuff she'd dated back in fourth year - god, what a knob he'd been). There was a depressing, symbolically small single box for anything Audrey-related. She'd gone and married some well-to-do Muggle six months after the divorce was finalised, he found out from Aunty Angelina, and nobody'd seen hide nor hair of her for ages.

And then, of course, there was an entire lifetime of Percy I. Weasley detritus to sift through and categorise. James sometimes felt uncomfortably voyeuristic as he went through Perce's stuff, the old Hogwarts essays (all ridiculously long and detailed and near-perfect scores; he'd considered lifting a few of them as revision aids for NEWTs), notebooks lined with careful handwriting, certificates and two prefect badges and, still in the original box, a Head Boy badge.

Then there was the second war memorabilia - an album of clippings from the _Prophet_ and the _Quib_. Perce had saved everything that even _mentioned_ his family, or James's dad, and there were a few pages of the album that were simultaneously hilarious and _scary_ \- one page would have a _Prophet_ article, and the opposite page would have the same story as written by the _Quib_.

Then there were three entire manila folders full of Ministry documents that, at first glance, seemed just _boring_ but, on closer inspection, raised the hairs on the back of James's neck.

All were carefully preserved, all showing the increasingly steep slide of a Ministry of Magic that had fallen into Death Eater hands. The first manila folder, James found, was full of memos written by Pius Thicknesse himself, detailing the Death Eaters' constantly rewritten regulations and codes, ones that eventually banned Muggleborns from even entering the Ministry buildings. The second were confidential reports from department heads sent to the Minister ( _god_ but Perce had taken a risk, putting copying charms on those) about the allegiances of various Ministry staff (one even included Percy himself, categorised "Dubious but Salvageable"). The third folder - the thickest one - was page after page of execution orders, signed by the Minister of Magic.

The last piece of paper in the last folder was a list of people who'd gone missing, written in Percy's own hand. James's breath had hitched as he scanned the list and found his dad's name, and Uncle Ron's and Aunt Hermione's.

Shaken, James had put the manila folders into a box marked "miscellaneous" and quickly moved onto a pile of innocuous hand-drawn Father's Day cards from Molly and Lucy, and a small album of the girls growing up.

... _Jesus_.

 

***

 

James clattered down the stairs, dusty and sneezing from the attic and ready for a snack and a drink before heading back up. It was a Sunday, which meant it was Cooking Day, since Perce didn't have time during the rest of the week. Which meant that he, James, got to consume anything that Perce couldn't fit into easily frozen containers, which was always a good thing. The smell of curry wafted down the hallways, making his mouth water, and James burst into the kitchen. "Oi, Perce! You wouldn't _believe_ how..."

His sentence trailed off, his enthusiasm dying a little as he watched Uncle Perce scurry away from the grandfather clock against the wall, towards the simmering pots and pans, his back towards James. James watched, mouth open a little, as his uncle struggled to subtly wipe his nose and cheeks with the back of a hand. It was a good twenty seconds before Perce turned around, but when he did, James had to give him credit - the only evidence that something had been wrong was how his eyes were a little red. Percy raised one ginger eyebrow, and gave him an expectant smile. "I wouldn't believe how, what?" he asked, goading.

"Oh - right, yeah." James fumbled, still troubled. "There's so much stuff about the wars up there! I didn't know Gram's brothers were such - no, _look_ ," he said, interrupting himself, frustrated with how he'd almost let himself be distracted. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, perfectly," Percy said, all composure and calm. "Yes, Gram's brothers were quite a pair. Fred and George were named to share their initials, they were born just before - well." He frowned a little, cut his gaze away. "Yes, lots of things about the wars."

James couldn't help glancing over to where Percy had been, over at the clock. Nothing seemed incredibly out of the ordinary about it, still three hands and all, obviously Moll and Luce hadn't - oh.

James took a couple of steps closer to be sure, and winced. _Oh._

"Luce staying with Hugo and Rose this summer?" he asked, already knowing the answer. Percy, who had turned back to stir the curry, visibly tensed and nodded. James sucked his teeth, and glared at his cousin's clock hand for a moment, for having the temerity to suddenly be lodged at "Home."

"It's her birthday, today." And oh, god, how _small_ Uncle Perce's voice sounded, James wanted to smack Luce. And Ron and Hermione. And the world in general, he decided, as he crossed the kitchen to stand beside his uncle and pretend nothing at all was amiss. "Thirteen. I've - I sent an owl with her present this morning, and I was planning on a cake, but. Oh, _god_ ," Perce mumbled, gripping the edge of the stove with one hand, hunching over the food a little, trying - so hard he was _shaking_ \- not to lose his composure. Suddenly, James felt a little like crying. He hoped to God and Merlin and whoever else was listening that he'd never made his Mum or Dad look like Perce did at that moment.

"I did want to be a good father. I - after she left, it was just _easier_ for - well, and Mother and Fleur thought it would be better for the girls if. They needed some sort of maternal figure. Merlin, James, I'm sorry."

"S'all right, Perce. You're a good dad," James mumbled, reaching a tentative hand up to pat him on the back. It seemed like the sort of thing his dad would've done.

Percy exhaled, and laughed, humorless. "No, I'm not. I was so terrified they were going to be taken _away_ from me, I've barely touched them. Barely spoken to them. And, of course, this is the result. Oh, the irony."

"Yeah, it's like a bloody O. Henry story, isn't it," James agreed, rubbing his back a little, commiserating. "Gift of the fucking Magi."

Percy paused, and turned to look at James over his shoulder, and then began snickering. After a very confused moment, James followed, relieved at having defused the tense situation. "How the hell d'you know about O. Henry?" Percy finally asked, wiping tears (of laughter, James hoped) from his eyes after he recovered.

"Muggle Studies, where else?" James said truthfully, grinning. "Look, you're not a crap dad. I remember you being all right with the girls." He had a sudden thought, and flushed a little, looking down at their feet, bashful of his idea. "You know, you could still do the cake. I could help. And then we could go to Uncle Ron's. Luce would love it, I'll bet, if you surprised her with it."

Percy blinked behind his glasses, startled. "Really?" he asked, sounding (and looking) impossibly young and unsure.

"Yeah." James couldn't help it, he had to give Uncle Perce's middle a squeeze, like he would've done for Lils or even Albus, before he became a knobhead that knew everything about everything. "Means I get cake batter to eat, along with curry," he grinned, arm still around his uncle's waist. Percy snorted and, after a moment's obvious deliberation, leaned against him a little.

"All right," he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose where his glasses hit. "Thanks, Jamie," he murmured, and gave his nephew's shoulder a squeeze.

 

***

 

It was the next Saturday, which meant that Uncle Perce was off work and that he had been able to help James with cleaning out the shed in the back yard all afternoon. Of course, the shed was twice as big on the inside as it was on the outside, which meant that there was twice the room to store useless shit - he had sniggered helplessly at Perce's consternation for five minutes when they'd unearthed _four_ sets of gardening shears.

They worked for four hours solid, the two of them, quickly settling into a comfortable groove together as they built shelves, unpacked boxes, and hauled trash (like the three superfluous sets of shears) to the magically expanding bin near the house. The sun was giving off its last rays of the day, setting the sky on fire, all orange and red and pink, as James finally finished sweeping the floor and Percy finished putting away the last box, full of cogs and gears and half-assembled mantel clocks.

James thought it a triumph that he actually managed to walk the twenty feet to the house, and actually managed to get to the sofa before collapsing. "Merlin, that was worse than last year's Quidditch Cup," he groaned, stretching out on the sofa, face-first in the cushions.

"Youth is wasted on the young," Percy sighed, and smacked James's outside thigh. "Up. No getting sweat on the sofa," he ordered, waiting patiently as James grumbled and eventually sat up before he claimed the corner of the sofa for himself. "Take-away for dinner?"

James nodded, and then grimaced and wiped his forehead and face with the bottom of his t-shirt. "Lamb masala. And chicken kurma. And naan. _Peshwari_ naan. Oh, and sag aloo. And samosas." He let his head loll against the back of the sofa, and grinned at Percy's disgusted expression.

"Essentially the left side of the menu," his uncle drawled a moment later.

"Yeah. Oh, and get something for yourself, too," James said sweetly.

Uncle Perce snorted, and slumped against the sofa for a moment, letting his eyes shut behind his glasses (they still had dust on them from the shed). James watched him for a handful of seconds, inwardly pleased at the absence of Percy's usual primness. Perce's hair was still damp on his forehead and near his neck, and the first two buttons of his shirt were undone, his only concession to the heat and the hard work. "Ugh," he murmured, finally forcing his eyes open. "All right, takeaway. Before I fall asleep," he said, and pushed himself up off the sofa, groaning a little at muscles that were already getting sore. "Don't destroy the house. And go take a shower, Merlin."

James gave him an injured look, and wiped his face on his shirt again, and then made a face as he smelled it. "...Yeah, all right. Pretty ripe." He slid off the sofa as well. "Can I borrow some clothes?"

"Yes, that's fine," Perce said, as he grabbed his door keys from the front table and headed for the door.

"Don't forget the samosas!" James called, just as the door was shutting. He heard Percy's answering chuckle, and smiled to himself, turning to switch the telly on. He rifled through the available channels for a moment before giving up on finding anything really compelling to watch, and headed towards the bathroom.

Percy's shower was ace - much better than the one they had at home. James gawped at the general splendour of dueling showerheads for a bit, before turning the water as hot as he could stand it and using every single one of the bottles of different washes and scrubs. Twenty minutes later, pink-skinned and gleaming and pleasantly exhausted, James cinched a towel around his waist and padded through to raid Percy's wardrobe.

It took him a full ten minutes to find an old pair of jeans (obviously not worn much) that he could actually get into (damn Perce and his skinny bird legs) and a gloriously soft ancient cotton tee, and James made faces at himself in the mirror in Perce's bedroom before casting a halfhearted drying charm on his hair and heading back into the living room.

There was a re-run of the last series of Doctor Who, which was a welcome surprise, so James flopped back onto the sofa and tucked a cushion under his head as he waited for Percy to return with the food.

He almost made it a full five minutes before he fell deeply asleep.

 

Ten minutes later, the door unlocked and Percy struggled in with half a dozen plastic bags full of takeaway containers, and he called for James as he set the bags on the kitchen table. When there was no answer, he ventured into the living room. "Jamie? Oh."

Percy paused for a second, gazing at his sleeping nephew on the sofa, and then at the Doctor Who episode that was just finishing up, before he broke into a small, crooked smile and went back into the kitchen. He just barely managed to stuff all the containers into the refrigerator (all except for the samosas, he was particularly fond of samosas), and walked quietly back into the living room, throwing a pinch of powder into the fireplace and crouching close to it. "Gin?"

After a minute, his little sister's head appeared in the sudden flames in the hearth. She looked more harassed than she usually did, and Percy wondered what Albus (or, for that matter, _Harry_ ) had got up to that evening. "Percy, hi. What - "

"Everything's fine," Percy said quickly, keeping his voice low, glancing behind him quickly to see if James was being disturbed. A snore from the sofa broke the silence, and he snickered quietly. "I was just - James and I cleaned out the shed in the back today and now he's pretty well unconscious, d'you want me to have him stay? There's room."

"Oh." Ginny paused, and then gave her brother a tentative smile. "Really, would you mind?"

"No, it's fine. Everything all right?" he asked, unable to help his protective instincts, despite Ginny never having needed them.

"Oh, yes." There was a brief pause, as Ginny screwed up her face. "Well, aside from Lily deciding to create new potions and consequently blowing a _hole_ in the house, yes," she groused, turning in the fire to glare at an unseen person behind her. "Ugh, I thought daughters were supposed to be _easier_."

"I'm sure you and Mum have a lot in common on that front," Percy teased gently. "Anything I can do?"

"No, s'fine, thanks. You're sure it's all right about James? He's not being an idiot or anything, is he?"

"No, he's been very helpful. A credit to the House of Potter."

"God, well, at least _one_ of them is. I've got to go finish dinner and some reports, Jamie can just Floo tomorrow when you leave for work, yeah?"

"Of course. Tell Lily I said good luck with the experimenting."

"Don't encourage her, there won't be a house left for James to come home to."

Percy actually _laughed_ at that, and said goodbye, and waited for his sister's head to disappear before he got up and grabbed the container of samosas, heading back into the kitchen with them.

In the living room, on the sofa, a half-awake James hid his sudden smile in the cushion he was using as a pillow. He sighed, and then stilled when, a few minutes later, Percy came back out and crossed over to the front of the sofa. "Jamie?" he said softly, and reached out a hand to jostle his nephew's shoulder.

James mumbled, and cracked one eye open blearily, and congratulated himself on his superb acting abilities. "Mrh?"

"Come on, you can sleep in the spare bedroom tonight. Your mother says you can Floo home in the morning," Perce explained, his hand still on James's shoulder. "Bed's more comfortable than the sofa, anyway."

"Mmph," James agreed, lifting his head heavily from the cushion. "Did you remember the samosas?" he asked, giving Perce a sleepy grin.

Percy chuckled, and pushed his hair out of the way of his glasses. "Yes, and I even saved you a couple. I'm sure they'll make a very good breakfast. Now, up. Bed." He tugged a bit on James's arm, until he grudgingly complied and half-fell off the sofa, pulling himself up and shuffling down the hallway, halfway leaning against Percy the whole way.

"Shower's brilliant," he said, apropos of nothing, and then he yawned, his jaw cracking. "Even if it's crowded with twelve different kinds of soap."

"Cleanliness is next to godliness," Percy replied easily, steering James into the guest bedroom down the hall. He patted the top of James's head, and pushed him onto the bed, and bullied him into getting underneath the covers, and even made a show of tucking him in. "There. Comfy?"

"Mhmmmm," James sighed lazily, stretching luxuriously under the cool of the sheets. " _Like_ the twelve soaps. Made me smell like you," he mumbled half-consciously, lulled by the soporific effect of the bed and the covers. He didn't notice how Percy froze for a few seconds, and then laughed quietly.

"Night, dear," Uncle Perce murmured, and brushed James's hair off his face gently. He pulled the blankets up a little more, making sure James's shoulders were covered, before he padded towards the door and closed it silently behind himself.

 

***

 

James realised, eight days after Luce's birthday, that Uncle Perce smelled like Earl Grey tea and fresh paper and mint. He realised that he knew every knob and bone of his uncle's wrists from having watched them so often, he knew that if Perce's neck flushed it meant he was embarrassed but if his cheeks went red, he was pleased.

He realised that he knew his uncle was queer and that he'd never done a damn thing about it except marry a woman. He knew Perce hated black olives, loved growing peppers and strawberries in his little garden, took all his shirts and robes to the same liberated house-elf-run cleaners in Diagon Alley, thought that _he_ should've died instead of Fred in the Battle for Hogwarts, and absolutely detested his job.

James realised, eight days after Luce's birthday, that _he_ was at least a little bit queer. Also that he was _fucked_.

So of course he did what any right-thinking hot-blooded wizard would do: he took advantage of the situation while the getting was good. After Luce's birthday (which was brilliant - chocolate marble cake and Luce shrieking with joy as soon as her Dad appeared in the Floo, and Percy handing her the bag of jokes James had _insisted_ they get at Zonko's beforehand, and the way Uncle Perce's eyes closed in relief and gratitude when his daughter hugged him - Christ, he was a goner, he was fucked, he was fuckedfucked _fucked_ ), James found himself taking every opportunity, no matter how shameless, to stay a little while longer at Uncle Perce's, to ingratiate himself a little bit more, to just _touch_ him.

He felt like a sodding _third year_ , with his sudden preoccupation with every brush of their hands over the takeaway boxes they had for dinner, with the way he and Perce sometimes got into nudge wars as they watched telly, with the hugs Percy allowed now, when James was leaving. On one extremely memorable occasion (memorable in that James replayed the scene to himself later and orgasmed so hard he nearly blacked out), James had even persuaded Perce to let him, James, give _him_ , Percy, a neck rub, since Perce had been complaining about his shoulders for most of the week.

And god - Perce had kept his shirt on, _of course_ , but it was a thin grey cotton tee James had never seen before, and oddly enough Perce wasn't _entirely_ bone in his shoulders, and for ten glorious minutes James had got to knead his fingers into only lightly-clothed flesh and neck. Ten full minutes of Perce with his eyes closed and his mouth - fuck, his lips always parted a little, and every now and then him muttering gaspy little instructions ( _just there_ and _ow - no, keep going_ ) and once - ohgod _once_ \- he had _actually. moaned._

 

***

 

James felt a bit underhand and Slytherin, but he was a man infatuated, and all was fair in love and war, and all that crap - he started wearing Albus's old t-shirts over to Uncle Perce's, ones that stretched across his arms and chest. That was, of course, unless he wasn't outside doing yard work, in which case he removed the shirt entirely.

He _knew_ he had good shoulders, and all right, his middle wasn't quite as firm as it had been during term but it wasn't shameful, and he was obviously plenty fit enough for the girls in the house opposite Perce's to leer and come out to make inane conversation every time they saw him. The eldest, particularly - Fiona, she was called - didn't seem to catch on that James's halfhearted conversation wasn't just because he was having trouble getting the Muggle lawn-mowing contraption started.

James slammed back into the house after forty-five minutes of fighting with that damned machine and talking about something called A-levels (close to OWLs and NEWTs, he figured), and drained a couple of bottles of pumpkin juice he found in the fridge. He flopped onto the sofa, and grumbled inwardly about stupid _girls_ and stupid _Percy's_ stupid Muggle fetish, and why couldn't he just wait til the Muggles were asleep and do a shearing charm on the lawn like everyone else.

And then he subsided, and went into the kitchen to make himself a consoling sandwich, and consulted the list of ideas Perce had made up for what he could do this week, tacked onto the fridge by a magnet. Dusting and vacuuming, he supposed.

Well, that wouldn't take long, and Perce wasn't due home from work for another three hours or so. James stretched, his hands above his head, his fingers plenty long enough to reach the top of the doorway, and he finished his sandwich and went over to switch on the telly.

 

Four hours later, Percy stumbled into the house and all but threw his briefcase and robes down in the foyer, and continued scowling - obviously not a great day at work. "Jamie?" he called, out of habit now, and he walked into the living room. His scowl seemed to vanish despite his best attempts to keep feeling injured by the idiots in his department; James was staring, un-shirted and open-mouthed, at the television screen, totally absorbed, and he'd obviously been dusting the same small patch on the bookshelves for a good fifteen minutes.

"Hi, Perce," James said, still not tearing his eyes away.

"I think you'd better switch to a new spot, you're rubbing the varnish off the wood," Percy pointed out, in a much better mood now than he had been two minutes ago. "What happened to your shirt?"

"Couldn't make the grass-clipper thing go, came inside and forgot," James said distractedly, and Percy gave up on conversation until the next break for adverts. When it finally came, he reached over and plucked the dusting rag out of James's hand, and raised one eyebrow at him.

James blushed. "Er, sorry. I did _try_. ...For an _hour_ , and the fu - sodding thing wouldn't go. I think it's out of petrol. Or, y'know, it just _hates me_. And then Fiona from across the way kept yammering on about her exams and which film she was going to see this weekend and how her younger sisters are annoying, which, ohmygod _newsflash_ , siblings are annoying. Soon as she took a _breath_ , I ran back in here. And..." he gestured to the television, "yeah."

"Ah, Fiona. Yes, talkative," Percy agreed. "And I'll have a look at the mower in the morning; just now I'm going to get in the shower. Staying for dinner?"

"Yes, please," James said, jumping at the chance to have Perce to himself for a whole hour. "It's Dad's night for cooking and Mum said she'd have his balls if he ordered curries in one more time. I don't want to be there for the results."

"Sensible. All right, I suppose you have enough time to finish dusting the living room, at any rate. And don't overextend yourself or anything, but I think you _might_ be able to accomplish the dusting whilst being entirely clothed." Percy smiled to lessen the tartness of the words, already loosening his tie as he turned and headed back to the bathroom. James huffed and felt torn between two warring desires to follow Percy into the bathroom, and to just shuck off the rest of his clothes and spend the rest of the night prancing about starkers, to Prove A Point.

Either way, the possible outcomes almost made the terror and danger worth it. _Almost_. But, of course, James's attempts at amorality failed him even if his bravery didn't, and he sighed and eventually found his shirt on the back of one of the kitchen chairs, and tugged it on before dusting things other than the one patch on the bookshelf.

He finished the living room after ten minutes, and went ahead and did the dining room and foyer while he was at it. When he had finished both of those and Perce _still_ wasn't out of the shower, James frowned and hoped his uncle wasn't trying to _drown_ himself by inexplicably difficult means, and headed towards the bathroom door to check on him. The door to the bathroom muffled the sound of running water behind it, though there were wisps of steam easing out of the cracks at the bottom and top of the doorway. James got distracted by dusting off the surface of a tiny hallway table (when he decided to do something, he wanted to do it _right_ ), and finally brought a hand up to knock on the door, hurry Perce along, but -

\- huh.

James froze, his hand an inch away from the door, and he brought it down after a moment and hovered closer, his ear turned to the door. Another twenty seconds, and there it was again.

James's mouth went dry, his hands went a bit shaky as he heard the barest hint of a muffled groan from the other side of the door. He pressed his ear entirely against the wood, not even bothering with self-recrimination, holding his breath as he waited for the n - there. James's eyes closed for a second and a half at the tiny, almost inaudible gasp. Which was quickly followed by another, almost identical, and then - christ \- a low, long, maddeningly quiet moan.

He shuddered, and then a few seconds later scurried away from the door and down the hallway, putting a bit of distance between himself and the bathroom before he could hear the water shutting off. James winced and pressed a hand to the front of his jeans, muttering _not now, damn it_ to his already half-hard cock, before he walked unsteadily towards the front door and then outside, taking in a few deep breaths of the cooling evening air.

His hands were still shaky, but god he needed distraction, _now_ , so he jogged over to the mower and began pulling the string on it, almost frenzied, cursing the fucking thing with every single word he knew before - miracle of miracles - the engine actually turned over and began to whir. James shuddered, again, and rubbed his face with a hand, and took another deep breath as he started to make even, parallel lines up and down Percy's tiny front lawn.

He closed his eyes for a bit as he fell into a groove, and tried just _not to think_ , especially not about how Percy might have been going about things in the shower, or about water running over pale skin, or about what it took to make him moan like th -

"Hi!"

Oh, _fuck_. God hated him, obviously. James opened his eyes, and gave Fiona a wan smile. "Hi," he said, but he didn't stop mowing the lawn, and he didn't much look at her, tripping daintily along beside him in her thongs and shorts.

"You got it to work! Brilliant. Better to do it now than in the afternoon, anyway, it's too _hot_ to do it in the afternoon, this time of day is when my dad always does ours, but he has one of the old push-mowers, d'you know down the street the Smythes have actually got one of those riding mowers, and their lawn's the size of this one, not even big enough to ride around in, my dad says - " she babbled cheerfully, not minding James's lack of interest or conversation. James glared balefully down at the grass, and circled the little sapling carefully, and his only contribution to Fiona's stream-of-consciousness wittering was to tell her not to get her toes near the mower. She thanked him profusely, and then asked him what he was doing after he'd finished the lawn.

"Well, I." He paused, unsure how to handle the situation.

"Jamie?" And oh _god_ , despite its brain-melting capacities, Perce's voice was the best news James had had all day. He swung around, and gave his uncle a relieved smile. "You got it to turn over!" Perce said, obviously pleased, as he came down the step towards the two teenagers. "Hello, Fiona," he said, giving the girl a small smile before he turned his attention back to James. "Dinner's almost ready, will you be long?"

James beamed at Percy for a moment, holding the mower stationary, and tried not to think about how relaxed his uncle looked, how there was still a flush on his cheeks (obviously from the heat of the shower, not - _shit_ ). "No, just finishing up," he said after a couple of seconds, before the pause could get too questionable.

And then James had a thoroughly brilliant idea. He raised an eyebrow at Perce, attempting to telegraph the idea (too bad Perce wasn't a Legilimens - though actually on second thought, that probably would have been bad bad _bad_ ) via expression, and then he found himself sliding an arm around Percy's back, tugging him forward half a step. "What's for dinner?" he asked, leaning against his uncle, all ease and intimacy.

Percy's eyebrows shot up, almost into his hairline, and he gave James a confused smile. "Er, pork roast and potatoes," he replied, blinking at James and then at Fiona. "Sound all right?"

"Mmm, pork roast," James said - all right, purred, rubbing Percy's back _just a bit_. "Meat and potatoes kind of man." James felt Percy tense, and flailed inwardly, wishing he would _just get it_. "What's for pudding?"

Percy gave him a narrow-eyed look for a second, calculating and suspicious, before he glanced over at Fiona and, thank _god_ , figured it out and relaxed into James's touch. "Oh, I don't know," he said back, his voice dipping a little lower. "I'm sure we'll think of something," he said, a little smirk stealing over his mouth, as he slid a hand into James's hair, fingers twisting in it idly.

James shivered, and pinched Percy's side, and snickered silently as his hair was tugged on in return. "Plans for later?"

"Mm, well, I'm having an early night, I have meetings all day tomorrow," Percy replied, tilting his chin a little in obvious challenge, the two of them blithely ignoring Fiona for a moment, waiting to see who would win this sudden contest between them.

James nodded, and since he was his father's son and a Weasley as well and the word "concede" was _not_ in his vocabulary, he propped his chin on Perce's shoulder. "You poor thing. Want me to tuck you in, get your bear?"

Percy pressed his lips together tightly, trying to hide his smile and the obvious laugh behind his teeth. "Dear, I don't sleep with a bear anymore," he purred. "Though I do like bedtime stories." He gave a curl of James's hair another tug, and then began pulling away, bits of that smile beginning to break free.

Reeling a little at how _good_ at underhand flirting his uncle was, James let him slide away, and put both hands back on the mower, grinning and flushed. "Be there in a moment," he managed, fondly watching Perce sashay back in the house. He turned and began mowing again before he remembered Fiona's presence, and glanced over at her nervously.

Her eyes were shining, scandalised and _totally delighted_. "Ohmy _god_ , he's old enough to be your _father_ ," she hissed excitedly, giving him a little smack on the arm. "How long has it been going on? Which one of you is the girl - oh, nevermind, nosy. Though it's totally him, isn't it? Oh, you two _are_ cute together, where did you meet? Oooh, d'you want to go shopping with me and Mads tomorrow?"

James started laughing at the sudden barrage of questions, and couldn't stop - he promised he'd go shopping with Fiona and her little sister sometime the next week (christ) and had to talk her out of making him give them both _haircuts_ as well, and eventually, after he'd finished mowing the lawn and storing the mower in the shed, he shook Fiona off and escaped into the house. He was still snickering, elated at the success of his plan, as he walked into the kitchen.

Percy had set the table and was already at his seat, smirking at him over the glass of water he was drinking. "Was she heartbroken?" he asked, when he'd set the glass down.

James laughed and slid into his seat. "If anything, I think she was more pleased. She's making me go shopping with her next week."

Percy choked, and began _laughing_ , like James had never heard him laugh before. "Oh, god. _Don't_ tell your mother we did that," he managed, as he passed James the potatoes and they began eating.

"I'm not stupid," James grinned, shoveling food into his mouth. "Oh, and for the record, you're the girl. Fiona decided."

Percy gave him an odd look, still sniggering gleefully. "You wish. Anyway, how on earth would _she_ know about - children grow up far too quickly these days," he said, trying and completely failing to be prim, since he was grinning.

"True, we should still be running around in footy pyjamas, demanding _bedtime stories_ ," James needled, popping a potato into his mouth, smirking. Percy actually _blushed_ at that, and set to work at the food on his plate, still smiling.

 

After dinner, James made Perce go watch telly while he cleared up. There were a couple of times, though, that he turned around to put away dishes and found Percy watching _him_ instead of the screen, a neutral, pensive expression on his face.

Flushed, pleased and oddly nervous, James finished up and came in to watch the last part of an EastEnders episode, sprawling on the sofa beside Perce, his head resting an inch from Percy's knee. Neither of them moved after it ended, for several minutes, until finally Percy sighed and stood, stretching for a second. "I have to go through some reports for work tomorrow," he said, obviously not looking forward to the prospect. "Coming over tomorrow, or are you and Fiona having your nails done?"

"Nails aren't til Tuesday, tomorrow we're watching _Titanic_ and braiding each others' hair," James said, stifling a yawn. "Yeah, I'll be here. Need to get the back mowed." He shoved to his feet, and shuffled towards the fireplace, getting a pinch of Floo powder from the flowerpot before he had a thought and turned to give his uncle a grin. "Want me to tuck you in?" he teased.

Percy gave him a small, crooked, nervous smile as he came over and enlarged the fireplace so that James could step into it. "I'll manage."

James nodded, and gazed down at the floo powder in his hand for a second. And then he turned and took a step over, and gave his uncle a tight hug. "Probably they can hear you worrying all the way down the street," he chided. "Don't think so much, Perce. It'll be fine."

"Yes, I know," Percy murmured, bringing his hands up to squeeze James after a moment's indecision. He pulled away first, giving James a last pat on the back and a fond smile, before giving him a little shove. "Go on, I have work."

"All right, all right. Get _some_ sleep tonight," James ordered, just before he threw the powder into the fire and stepped inside the bright green flames. He turned, just quick enough to catch the outline of Perce giving him a little wave, and then he was back at home.

 

***

 

The mower cooperated the next day, and James had the back mowed in under a half hour. Of course, it took another hour and a half to get Fiona out of the back yard and to convince her that no, he'd really never seen _any_ of Queer As Folk and no, he _wasn't_ interested in coming over and watching the DVDs and n - all right, yeah, Charlie Hunnam was pretty fit.

After that, he finished the dusting and had to firecall his mum to find out the best spells for sweeping up, since Perce's ancient vacuum was beyond his capabilities. And then, even though Percy hadn't mentioned it, he started a load of laundry (there had been an Incident involving Percy's white dress shirts accidentally being turned green during James's first week at the house, and he had been treated to a long lecture on How To Use A Washer), pretending it wasn't an excuse to go through Percy's clothes.

He limited himself to watching only _one_ soap, before he set to work enlarging and reorganising the linen closet, which took for-fucking- _ever_ (what a single man living in a three-bedroom needed twenty sets of bedclothes for, he had no idea). And then he fixed the leaky faucet in the upstairs bathroom. And then he fixed the top drawer of Molly's desk. And then he went out into the garden to get any ripe fruit and vegetables and bring them inside.

And then he sat at the kitchen table and wondered where the hell Percy was, it was an hour and a half past when he was supposed to get home.

James waffled for another fifteen minutes before he came to a decision - he went into the kitchen, made a stack of sandwiches and took a couple of them, and left the rest in the fridge for Perce's dinner. And then he left a note on the table, letting Percy know what he'd got done that day, and then, dejected, he went to the fireplace and Flooed home.

The Floo dumped him out in his dad's study's hearth, which was unexpected. James brushed himself off and squinted at the dark of the room and felt his way over to the door, glad that he hadn't interrupted any of his dad's work. The sandwiches had arrrived intact, anyway, and James bit into one as he shuffled down the hallway. Mum was in the living room with the door shut, which was lucky, he didn't want to be drawn into another conversation about his exploits at Uncle Perce's, and she was obviously talking to - oh, probably having a meeting with - wait.

James frowned, and stopped at the door, shamelessly eavesdropping for a moment. That was _Percy's_ voice. Startled, James pressed himself close to the door, a sudden gnawing worry making itself known in the pit of his stomach.

" - no other children in the neighborhood anymore, he's bored out of his _skull_ ," he heard Percy saying.

"Well, he's not there to make friends or bag birds or whathaveyou, he's there to earn a few Sickles and stay out of trouble," Mum replied, a little annoyed, from her tone.

"He could just as easily have done that at Flourish and Blotts, you know -"

"Oh, _don't_ start, Perce, you know those bats just wanted to pick his brains about - "

"Yes, but that _doesn't mean he wouldn't be good at it_ ," Percy said forcefully, his voice ringing clear even on the other side of the door. James was oddly warmed by the thought of Perce standing up for him.

There was a small pause. "James isn't _you_ , Percy," Mum said, in a tone that meant _run, run now, run fast_. "And I don't need _you_ telling me what's best for my children, especially when Molly and Lucy - "

"Have an absentee bummer for a father?" Percy supplied, acidly. "Have been exposed from an early age to a _lifestyle_ not in keeping with today's traditional wizarding values, but thank Merlin they have an extended family who _caaaaare_?"

"Perce, that's not fair, I _told_ you that you should've told Mum and Phlegm to stuff it."

"Sorry. Look, I'm not trying to tell you how to raise James, I just don't think it's _good_ for him to be totally isolated in an alien environment all summer. Even if he _is_ earning a bit of money."

There was a small pause. "Shit, he's making a nuisance of himself, isn't he. What's he done? Did he break something?"

"No, Gin, honestly, he hasn't done a thing, he's been lovely, it's just - "

"He didn't set fire to anything, did he?" On the other side of the door, James squawked at the unfairness - that had only been _once_ and he'd been about _five years old_.

"What? No, for god's sake. It's just - well, I'm running out of things for him to _do_ , I have him dusting and sweeping as it is, nothing needs fixing anymore because there's nothing more to _fix_ \- "

James couldn't take it anymore, and opened the door and let himself in. "Hi, Mum," he said, taking a bite of his sandwich, sparing one glance for Percy, who was suddenly looking really guilty. "S'true, I'm pretty much a glorified house elf at this point," he told her, making no bones about how he'd been listening at the door. "Though y'know," he said, turning to face Perce, "you could have _told_ me I was getting in the way," he said, proud of the way his face didn't change, even though his insides had just turned into jelly. A sick-making jelly.

"You weren't in the way, Jamie," Percy fumbled, looking a bit greener than he had before. "I was worried about you getting - well, bored."

"Bored." James gave him a flat look, flat and sharp as glass, and took another bite of his sandwich. "Nope, wasn't ever bored." He paused, unable to look at his Mum or Percy, settling on looking at the fire itself. "Look, s'easy, I'll just finish everything up tomorrow and get out of your hair. Maybe see if George wants some help at his shop, it's only five weeks til term starts." He finished off the sandwich, shrugged a shoulder casually.

Ginny glanced from her brother to her son, and shrugged a shoulder as well, showing exactly where James had picked up the gesture. "Suits me. You're sure he didn't break anything?"

"Mum!" James squawked.

"No, he was brilliant," Percy muttered, running a hand through his hair, not quite looking at James, though he smiled at Ginny. "Best house elf I ever had."

James folded his arms. "Can I go? Need to owl Uncle George." Mum nodded and waved him out, already turning to the pile of parchments littering the coffee table.

"See you tomorrow, then?" Perce called from the fireplace, trying like hell to sound jocular and chummy and not like Judas fucking Iscariot. James wanted to fucking _deck_ him.

"Yeah, sure," James said, casual and collected. And then he sauntered out of the living room, and down the hall into the bathroom, and promptly threw up the sandwich he'd just eaten.

 

***

 

He didn't think it was the filling in the sandwiches, but James kept puking that night. Dad, bless his paranoid, maladjusted little heart, insisted on taking him to St Mungo's and having him checked over for possible poisons or hexes, though James complained the entire time they were there about the unnecessary drama.

Grey-faced, Dad kept tight hold of his hand while they were waiting on the Healers' results, and Mum tried to take both their minds off things by making Dad tell the story about how when they were younger, Uncle Ron had tried to use a broken wand and wound up puking up slugs for the better part of an evening.

"Bet they didn't take him to St Mungo's," James grumbled, though he was laughing feebly, wincing at how his overworked stomach muscles twinged.

"No, Hagrid just put a bin in front of him and let him have at it," Dad reminisced fondly, before his expression changed and he glanced over at his boy and his wife. "Come to think of it, that was pretty stupid of us. He could've had something genuinely wrong with him."

"Well, it was _Hagrid_. And you," Mum justified. "No offence, but you three were always doing things at Hogwarts that could be classified as 'pretty stupid'."

Dad opened his mouth automatically to protest, but then seemed to see the point, and shrugged a tacit agreement. "Anyway, we should've taken him to the infirmary, at least."

"Yes, he would've been much more comfortable belching up slugs in a room that smelled of disinfectant," James groused, as his stomach turned over again. "Merlin, talk about something other than slugs," he whined, reaching for the bedpan. On his side of the bed, Dad turned a little bit green, and patted James's arm.

"One time I defeated a Dark Lord," Dad said jokily. "Have I ever mentioned?"

James laughed, and then whimpered at his stomach's protests. "Think I heard about it."

"Oh, and in my sixth year, I had Professor Snape's old potions book and used it to cheat all year long," Dad supplied. "He had notes in the margins."

James blinked at that, he'd never heard about it before. "Really? D'you still have it?"

"No," Dad sighed. "Bastard took it off me."

"Hell, I could've used the help, don't know how I'm going to avoid a T on that NEWT," James said, defeated.

"Harry, you are _leaving out_ the best part of that story," Mum told Dad severely, giving him a frown over the hospital bed. Dad gave her an innocent, confused look, and shrugged his shoulders at James. She huffed and turned to her son. "What your father is completely _failing_ to mention is that for the _entire year_ , all he could talk about - all he could _think_ about was figuring out who the notes came from. Snape was calling himself...something ridiculously pretentious, surprise surpr - "

"His mother's _name_ was Prince, it wasn't pretentious," Dad protested. He caught James's confused look and grudgingly explained. "The book just said it was property of 'the half-blood Prince', it didn't mention a name."

" _Anyway_ , your father had a _complete_ man-crush - "

"Oi!"

"You _did_ , you know you did - he had a _crush_ on what turned out to be a sixteen-year-old _Severus Snape_. _While_ he was dating me."

James cracked up, both at Mum's glee at the story, and at Dad's horrified expression. "Ow - oh, god, Dad, you _didn't_."

"NO, of _course_ I didn't. Ew, Gin. You do actually remember what the man _looked_ like."

"Well, I dunno. I mean, yes, the nose _was_ unfortunate," she hastened to say, seeing identical disgusted expressions on both James's and Harry's faces, "but - the _intensity_. Mmmmm. Oh, and the robes. All the buttons."

"Mum, stop talking before I'm ill again," James pleaded.

"Really. Might have to share the bedpan with _me_ if she keeps up," Dad complained. Mum giggled helplessly at them for a few minutes, and then James did actually retch again, which kept the three of them busy for a bit.

James shivered and moaned as soon as he was done, and felt like a baby for admitting it to himself, but the attention did feel good - Mum's hands were cool on the back of his neck, and Dad was rubbing his back lightly. He sighed, and slumped back onto the bed, and let Dad magic the sick in the bedpan away.

A few minutes after his breath had gone back to normal, James cracked an eye open. "Is that why you named Albus after him? Because both of you thought him oddly attractive?" He closed his eyes again quickly, grinning a little at how his Mum shouted with laughter and how his Dad squawked and started protesting afresh.

 

Of course, the Healers came back with results that James was completely fine, just a bug of some sort or a mild case of food poisoning, nothing more sinister. One of the Healers watched James closely for a minute, and then suggested that it could be due to stress, and wasn't James getting ready for his NEWTs year? James shrugged, and glanced over at Mum and Dad, who suddenly looked guilty. "I'm fine. Can we go home now?"

It was two in the morning by the time they returned home, and James crawled into bed and let Mum fuss over him for a bit, plumping his pillows and bringing him ginger ale. Even Albus poked his head in for a bit, to say if James was dying could he please have his broom, but Mum scared him off by threatening to cook his owl for dinner the next day. James gave her a tired smile. "Honestly, Mum, m'fine."

"I know, I know. Perhaps I just like an opportunity to remind myself that you're my baby," she said, teasing him as she brushed his damp hair off his face. "How're you feeling?"

"All right," he supplied immediately. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he shifted uneasily. "Stomach hurts. Don't think m'going to sick up anymore, just hurts."

She sighed, and gestured for him to scoot over on the bed a bit, and then settled on top of the covers beside him as soon as he'd budged up. "Poor dear," she murmured, propped up against the headboard, and she patted his hair down soothingly with one hand. "My poor little boy, all sickly."

James couldn't help it, he'd had a _day_ after all, and his Mum was being all nice and Mum-like. He squeaked oddly, and his face crumpled as he turned into his Mum's side, his shoulders hitching. She tsked and rubbed his back gently, not commenting as he wept a few angry, whimpery tears. "My boy," she sighed, pressing her hand to his cheek. "Poor darling, what's wrong?" James huffed, frustrated at himself, and shook his head. "No, tell me, come on."

"Ugh, nothing. Just - sick and tired and _fed up_ ," he managed, hitting his head against the pillow for punctuation. " _Why_ couldn't I go work at Flourish and Blotts, you should've let me," he gasped, through a fresh wave of tears.

"Oh, _Jamie_ \- " Mum cut herself off, and sighed again, and curled around her boy a little. "I'm sorry. Probably I should have. I promise, next summer you can do whatever you want. Or I'll firecall tomorrow and let them know you're free til you go back this year, hmm?"

James whimpered, but nodded. "Not the point, but thanks," he muttered. Mum thought for a second, and made a little _aha_ noise.

"Is this about Percy?" she asked, sounding surprised. "Jamie, I didn't really think you broke anything, or - "

"No, just - we got along, I thought, and." James didn't know what to say, so trailed off, one fist tight in the bedcovers next to his cheek.

"Well, darling, that's just Percy, I'm afraid," Mum murmured.

" _No_ , Mum, it's." James shuddered, and felt a bit cooler as he stopped crying, felt an odd, lightheaded sort of release. "I know about Uncle Percy."

"Hmm?" She was still stroking his hair idly, waiting for him to continue.

"About why Aunt Audrey left," he explained, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he felt Mum tense up, beside him.

"...oh. Did." There was a brief, nervous pause. "Did Percy ever - "

" _No_ , Mum, god," James said explosively, pressing his face to the pillow again. "Just - I'm _like him_ ," he finally forced out in a pained whisper, turning his face so she could hear him. "At least I think, I mean. I am. And - is that what I have to look _forward_ to?" he said, his voice traveling up an octave at the end of the sentence. "Being alone all the time, the rest of the family mocking me and t-taking my kids away?"

"Oh god," Mum breathed finally, and James was shocked to hear her give a strangled little sob before she hugged him tight, curling around him. "Oh, _Jamie_ ," she whimpered, giving him another squeeze. "I'm sorry, darling, I had no idea."

"Ow, Mum, you're hurting," he managed, poking his head out for air when she finally loosened her hold. He wiped his face, still frustrated, and burrowed into her a little. "S'all right, sort of...didn't know, myself, really, til a little bit ago. Just." He shivered, and sighed. "it was nice, being around someone else who was, and nothing _happened_ , gross," he half-lied, "but - think it scared him when he realised about me. And - is that going to be me? Scared to have a friend or even _live_?"

Mum shivered, and gave him another squeeze. "No, Jamie, listen to me," she said, deadly serious, with a voice James had rarely heard her use. "I will _never_ let anyone mock you for this. All right? I'll murder anyone who tries." James blinked at her, wide-eyed, because he actually _believed_ her. "Your Dad and I will _always_ be proud of you because you're a _good person_ , and." She paused, and James got a little nervous when he realised her eyes were going red and her lip was trembling a little. When she managed to speak again, her voice was rough. "I will always, always love you, because you're my sweet little boy who looks out for all of us."

" _Mu-um_ ," James said, shocked, both at her and at how his own eyes were prickling. "Merlin, stoppit," he said, though he hugged her tight, relieved and nervous all at once.

"All right, all right," she murmured, though she did give one little quick sob as she hugged him back. "And don't worry about people...taking your kids away, or shit like that, I'd like to _see_ Phlegm or Gram try it."

"Thanks, Mum," James sighed, resting his head on her shoulder, completely exhausted suddenly. "Shit, I still have to go to Percy's in the morning," he remembered.

"Don't say 'shit'," she said automatically, distracted. "I'll tell him you're ill, you can go the next day," Mum said firmly, wiping her eyes. "Oh, and I don't want you worrying about Uncle Percy. It's...sad, yes, but he did _choose_ to stay apart from the rest of us. 'Our choices show us what we really are', and all," she quoted. "D'you know who - "

"Dumbledore," James said, before she could finish. "Dad talked about it in that speech last year," he told her, giving her a slightly smug smile.

"Ohoho, _well_ , Professor of Everything, did you know _he_ was a nancy too?" she teased, poking him in the side.

"Mum!" James chuckled, startled despite himself. He thought she'd've given him a good twelve hours before teasing him about this like she did about everything else. "Wait, who's a nancy, Dad or Dumbledore?" he smirked.

Mum laughed, and then tilted her head, suddenly looking thoughtful. "We-ell, your father does have a _lot_ of shoes," she sighed, and then grinned as James broke into laughter.

 

***

 

James spent the next day lolling in bed, mostly healed from his mystery stomach virus except for sore muscles and being more ravenous than usual. That morning, Dad came to see him, which was awkward for the first thirty seconds since it was plainly obvious from his expression that Mum had told Dad what was up. James watched bemusedly as Dad stammered out a tangentially related anecdote about Sirius Black and Teddy's dad being similarly inclined, and then James patted Dad's knee, attempting to comfort him after what was obviously a very traumatic ordeal.

"So what you're telling me _is_ , Dad, that even fairies can be werewolves, unregistered Animagi, break out of Azkaban with no help, and be war heroes and sex gods?"

"Well...yes," Dad said, after a thoughtful pause. And then he hit James around the head with a pillow, and James responded in kind, and everything was all right again.

There was a slightly tense moment when Percy's ancient owl Hermes II arrived on James's windowsill, giving him a slightly disapproving look as it held out a note and a small parcel tied to its leg. James frowned as he undid the knot, and unfolded the paper first, nervously.

> _Dear James -_
> 
> _Your mother tells me you're feeling a bit under the weather, so I thought you could use the distraction - the worst part about being ill, I've always thought, is the boredom that comes with it. I'm glad to hear it's just a temporary bug and that you'll likely feel better soon._
> 
> _I know I owe you an apology, Jamie. However, coward though I am, I'm not so far-gone as to deliver in a letter what should really be given in person. I'll see you when you're well, I hope._
> 
> _Percy_

 

James leaned back against the pillows after he'd read the note, and sighed as he reached for the tiny parcel. It took forever to get it open, but inside, magically miniaturised so that Hermes II could carry it, was a book containing wizarding Sudoku puzzles (the numbers and designs tended to switch around, like Hogwarts staircases), a pile of Chocolate Frogs and Ice Mice, the latest Martina Miggs Murder Mystery novel, and a trashy Muggle magazine detailing the exploits of every single soap opera on television. James laughed at the last inclusion, and unwrapped an Ice Mouse and let it dissolve slowly on his tongue as he grabbed for a quill to set to work on the first Sudoku. He gave Hermes II an Ice Mouse, which seemed to put the owl into a better mood, because it took a brief nap there on his windowsill before flitting off again, back in the direction it had come.

It was enough for the moment, he decided, that Percy _wanted_ to apologise. James put off thinking about it for the rest of the day, and focused instead on his new gifts, and on keeping an eye on Mum, who was pottering around in the kitchen (which was always a recipe [ha] for some sort of disaster).

He even went to bother Albus and Lily for a bit. The siblings' exchange about the family's new James Revelation was thoroughly typical:

James: So.

Lils: So Mum tells us you're a pouf.

James: Pretty much.

Albus: It wasn't anyone we know from school, was it?

James: Come again?

Albus: Y'know, who made you gay.

Lily: Albus, don't be stupid. Mum and _Dad_ made James gay.

Albus: Well, Dad _does_ have a lot of shoes.

James: She meant from birth, dumbarse. And to answer your pathetically unenlightened question, the person at school who made me gay is your girlfriend. Whom I shagged. And she was so crap at it that I turned to cock instead. Sorry, Lils, penis. Not cock.

Albus: See, normally, I would have to hit you for that, but I'm not allowed to hit girls.

James: This is, of course, the second reason I decided to convert to homosexuality.

Lily: God, the girls in my year are going to be _so_ jealous. Ooh, James, d'you want to go shopping with me?

 

Mum told him at dinner (all sorts of takeaway, obviously it was some sort of weird Celebration Of His Gay, which made James snigger and then feel a bit sad because he realised the person he really wanted to tell about it was Percy) that she had firecalled Flourish and Blotts and they were still keen on getting him to come and help for the rest of the summer, especially with the Hogwarts crowd coming up. Pleased, James promised Lily that she could use whatever employee discount he'd get and only rubbed it in Albus's face a _little_ that he'd be able to afford a new broom by the time term started.

After dinner, Mum and Dad shooed Albus and Lily upstairs and gave James a seriously scary (and sort of funny) talk on the importance of safe sex. Dad turned an unhealthy shade of purple, especially after Mum produced a stack of books and pamphlets she'd found in her research, and all three of them dissolved into shamed giggles at about the same time when they found out that one of the books had Very Helpful Diagrams.

"Merlin, I didn't think you could _bend_ that, that way," Dad muttered, tilting his head at one of the pictures. James, bright red by this point, collapsed and started howling with laughter, while Mum heaved a deep sigh and threatened to let Aunt Hermione come and take over the lecture.

"And I'm sure she could give _you_ some pamphlets on what bends and what doesn't," she told Dad mock-severely, giving him the sort of significant look that made James whimper and clap his hands over his eyes.

"God, if I wasn't gay before, I _certainly am now_ ," he complained.

"Ugh, _fine_ , I don't know why I bother," Mum groused, though she was grinning cheerfully at their chagrin. "The moral of the story _is_ , James, be careful. Or I will kill you, _or_ you'll contract a delightful disease that'll make your willy fall off and you'll be no good to anyone."

Dad looked horrified, both at the idea and at Mum telling James about it. "Or you could become a monk," he suggested. "Would you like to become a monk, James?"

"No, I'd look like Snape and Mum would decide to come after me," James replied happily. "It'd be very Greek tragedy."

"I don't like red-haired men," Mum sniffed, tilting her chin. "God, go to bed. _This_ is what happens when we try Real Parenting, Harry. We must remember."

"We could get him a book on venereal diseases," Dad mused. "Full of _pictures_. That'd scare him off sex for life."

" _Goodnight_ ," James said firmly, getting up to give his mum a kiss on the cheek. He patted Dad's head kindly, and then hurried to his room before he could hear his parents discussing his sex life anymore.

He changed into pyjamas and went through the motions of getting ready for bed, sobering a little as he thought about what the next day held in store for him - it'd be Saturday, which meant that Percy was going to be home from work the entire time he was there.

Which was...unsettling, he admitted, if only to himself. James sighed as he crawled into bed, and tugged a pillow over his head to try to block out the things that were already making his mind race.

All right, obviously Perce wanted to apologise. Promising, James thought, if only because it meant that Percy realised that going behind his back and talking to his Mum about things was underhand and not very fair and - here was the crux of the matter - avoiding the _real_ reason he didn't want James in his house anymore.

James's stomach turned in a familiar way, and he swallowed noisily as he thought about what a _berk_ he'd been, thinking he was oh so subtle about all the flirting and touching and things when Perce had seen through him the entire time. Though why hadn't Perce just _told_ him? Why was fabricating a list of reasons and giving them to _Mum_ easier than telling James "oh, actually, I don't much like being on the receiving end of a clumsy seduction attempt by one of my relatives, thanks"?

James groaned, and hit his pillow with one hand, sort of hating himself. He'd been _such a fool_.

But - and James couldn't tell if this was just a pathetic attempt at justification on his part or the truth - James had never done anything he hadn't meant. He'd never exploited his knowledge of Percy being queer for his own gain. He hadn't _told_ anyone, and he hadn't just tried to get a leg over. It hadn't been like that, at least - he did genuinely _like_ Percy. And he was pretty sure Percy had genuinely liked _him_. And even though the whole Potter-Weasley-Granger-Delacour-Whatever hybrid zoo was notorious for being clannish and codependent as fuck, everyone living out of everyone else's pockets et cetera, the prospect of having one of his relatives actually like him _as a person_ and not just as Our James or Harry-n-Ginny's Boy or Albus's Brother or whathaveyou was...incredibly appealing. To be accepted and _liked_ for the simple act of _being himself_.

Despite himself, despite his shaken confidence in his own analytical abilities, James couldn't bring himself to doubt that whatever his actions, Percy would value that as much as James did.

James frowned, and burrowed down into his bedcovers a bit more, still with the pillow over his head as he thought hard about what his Mum had told him the night before. She was right, Perce had chosen to hide himself in an ivory tower. As a Weasley, he had _carte blanche_ to what some people thought the most exclusive club in wizarding England - their extended family. That he would choose not to participate seemed - well, sort of _stupid_.

Though - well. James bit his lip, and wondered if his Mum had ever seen the contents of those three manila envelopes he'd found up in Percy's attic. Or if she'd ever asked what Percy was doing at the Ministry all those months Dad was on the run. He sort of wondered if _anyone_ had ever asked Perce about it, about what he'd seen.

He knew about the Great Schism that had happened while Mum and Dad were still at Hogwarts - how Percy had turned his back on the family, and even tried to tell Uncle Ron to drop Dad as a friend. He knew that Perce hadn't come back until the night of the Battle for Hogwarts, just in time to see and be forgiven by and fight alongside his brothers before one of them died. He knew that Perce was the one closest to Fred when he died, the first one to reach him when the dust settled, there even before Uncle George.

James _suspected_ that Perce's subsequent actions - shunting himself out of the limelight of the Minister's Personal Staff and into the International Co-op again, marrying the first witch that would have him, producing a couple of kids to add to his mother's increasingly crowded clock - were all a fucked-up attempt at recompense. Repentance. Living the life he thought he deserved, or - and this made James restless with frustration and worry - the life he thought Fred might have wanted. Nevermind his own ambitions, his own dreams.

James shivered, and just felt _sad_ \- sad that it seemed like nobody had ever actually _asked_ Perce what he wanted. Sad that it seemed like Percy had never thought to _just ask_ for it.

His poor, crazy, fucked-up gay uncle, James mused, and smiled crookedly, underneath the pillow. It was surprising to think of Uncle Perce as his favourite relative now, but there it was. James was still sort of ashamed of himself, and how he still wouldn't pass up an opportunity to see Perce shirtless or showering or something, but more than that now he just really wanted to see Percy _not be afraid_. To be _happy_. To want something and be able to ask for it.

He exhaled, and turned onto his other side, and closed his eyes. Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day, certainly.

 

***

 

Mum gave him a lift to Perce's the next morning - more, she insisted, for her benefit than for his, she had errands to run and taking James to Percy's meant she would actually get up in time to get them done. James loved her a lot for the lie.

He gazed up at the house with no small amount of trepidation, leaning his forehead against the car window for a moment. The house was, as ever, quiet and solemn-looking, and it struck James suddenly how much it reminded him of a _tomb_ in the early morning light.

Which was a singularly depressing thought, he realised. He bit at his thumbnail idly and wondered if someday the house really _would_ be - odds were, unless Percy keeled over at his desk at the Ministry, he would eventually expire somewhere in the house. James's breath caught in his throat and he _hated_ his brain for a moment, as he wondered how long it would take before anyone would discover Percy there. He exhaled a quick gust of air and mentally shook himself.

"You can firecall at any point and I'll come and get you," Mum told him, sounding a bit nervous herself. "All right?"

"All right, Mum," he murmured, and he unbuckled his seat belt and slid out of the car, shouldering his bag and giving her a little wave as he trudged up the lawn and into the house.

Unsurprisingly, Percy was already awake. The house smelled of coffee, and was more alive inside than out, which was a relief - James set his bag down in the foyer and made his way towards the kitchen, not announcing his presence to his uncle, who was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping delicately at a steaming mug as he read the morning _Quib_. Near the sink, a small portable radio was quietly announcing the morning headlines, turning what would have been an otherwise oppressive silence into just peacefulness.

James leaned against the doorframe for a moment and just looked Perce over, unconsciously memorising the scene - Percy's rather astounding bedhead, the way his hands curled around his mug like it was something precious, the thin t-shirt and flannel pyjama bottoms he'd worn to bed the night before. There was a bit of sunlight streaming in through the kitchen window, catching on Percy's glasses and the blond fuzz on his arms, turning his hair into a red so bright it seemed to burn.

"Hey," James said eventually, disliking how his voice immediately broke the spell of the moment. Percy jumped, startled, and glanced up, and gave him a nervous little smile as he stood.

"Hello. Sorry, I hadn't expected you so soon. But it's good to have you here, obviously, I - have you had breakfast?" he asked, stumbling over his words a little, obviously anxious. James gave him a small smile back, and shrugged a shoulder.

"Nope, not a thing," he said, pushing himself off the doorframe and into the kitchen itself, sliding into his usual seat at the table. "Though honestly I think I'd rather just stick to coffee."

"Ah." Percy nodded, and turned to grab another mug from the shelf. "How are you feeling?" he asked, genuine concern present in his voice.

"Better, thanks. Oh, and thanks for the books and the sweets, they helped a lot," James said, remembering his manners (wouldn't Mum be proud). "Some of those Sudoku are really bloody hard."

"Ugh, yes, they tend to give me a headache if I stare at them for too long," Percy agreed as he poured James a cup of coffee. He turned and held up the glass container. "Plenty of room for milk and sugar, still?"

"Please." James clasped his hands together, on top of the table, and gazed down at them nervously as Percy finished fussing with the coffee and set the mug before him. He shot his uncle a quick dart of a smile, and began pouring obscene amounts of sugar and cream into the cup, stirring it with a spoon, the metal clinking on the sides of the mug. "Though the day did get a lot less boring as it went on," he continued, eventually.

"Oh?" Percy had retaken his seat, and glanced up from the article he was skimming.

"Yeah." James bit his lip. "Livened right up after I told my Mum I was gay." He hunched his shoulders, and took a first tentative sip of his coffee. And then he promptly made a face and reached for the sugar again, to dump more in. He very kindly pretended he _hadn't_ noticed how Perce's mug had stopped halfway to his mouth.

"Ah. Well, er - "

"No, look," James said suddenly, setting the sugar down with a slightly shaky hand as he brought his head up and actually met his uncle's startled gaze. "Look, I know you said you wanted to apologise but - can I go first?"

Percy blinked myopically, but nodded and set his mug down on the table, folding his newspaper carefully as he drew his chair up. "All right."

"All right." James exhaled, long and slow, and nodded too. "Okay, I was thinking and I just - I wanted to tell you I was sorry for scaring you, because I'm pretty sure I did and that's why you talked to Mum. But I also wanted to tell you that I never meant to scare you. I never did anything I didn't mean." He fidgeted, intensely uncomfortable, and had to put his hands in his lap because they _wouldn't stop shaking_. "It's... _fuck_ , this is embarrassing," he muttered, frustrated at himself, at feeling his seams beginning to come unglued.

"It's fine, Jamie," Percy murmured from across the table, leaning forward a little, concerned.

"All right, well. The, er - _things_ I've figured out about myself this summer are...pretty much because of you. Not just - " James stammered, " - I mean, they were because you were _you_. A good example, and all. And I'm sorry for the teasing and the...well, flirting," he conceded, his face turning bright red as he remembered, "but it was sort of the first time I'd ever been able to, without being scared. And I scared _you_ , and that was the opposite of what I wanted, and I'm r-really sorry, Perce."

James was horrified to hear his voice breaking a little at the last bit, but he couldn't quite seem to _shut up_. "Really, really sorry. I shouldn't have, but it was just - you were..." James shivered, and brought a hand up to run through his hair, ducking his head to obscure his face, "oh, funny and unexpected and nice to me and you didn't treat me like I was about five years old, and. You asked my opinion on things and watched crap telly and didn't just tolerate me because of my Mum and Dad."

James shuddered, angrily attempting to wipe his eyes with some amount of subtlety; this wasn't how he had planned this _at all_. "Hang on a minute," he squeaked, his shoulders slumping with defeat.

There was the scrape of a chair - oh, great, Perce was so uncomfortable he was just _leaving the room, **great**_ \- and then James jumped and _broke completely_ as he felt arms sliding around his middle, tugging him onto his feet and into a tight hug. "M'so sorry, Perce, I just - I didn't want you to think you were a _joke_ ever, I'm sorry I fucked up," he babbled as he clung to Percy's t-shirt and shivered. "Shit, I sound like Fiona."

"Not at all," Percy assured him, rubbing his back gently, one cheek resting on his nephew's hair. "My brave boy, you don't at all." He sighed, and James felt his lungs expand and contract underneath where his own cheek was resting, and closed his eyes for a moment. "Thank you," Perce murmured after a moment, not moving, content to keep hold of James for the time being as he slowly settled down from his outburst. "Is it my turn yet?"

James snorted and gestured a hand to indicate Percy should just go ahead. "Don't think you're going to be able to top _this_ , though," he mumbled into Percy's chest, wry. He smiled a little at the chuckle Percy gave at that, and exhaled, slumping against Percy just a little more. Percy tsked and cupped the back of his head gently, for a moment, before he spoke.

"First, thank you. For saying I wasn't a joke," he said, his voice a little forced at the admission implied. "Not that I believed you capable of that sort of malice but, well - a man in my position, one can see where it would be an inherent possibility." James huffed a nonverbal protest at Percy selling himself short, but otherwise didn't interrupt. "And thank you for your help around the house this summer, and - " Percy paused, his arms tightening around James a tiny bit, " - for the friendship and laughter and limitless acceptance you've given me. That..." Perce had to clear his throat a bit, before he could continue, "that was new. And an unexpected blessing."

"Thank you for your help with Lucy's birthday, no doubt I would've lost my nerve about going to see her, if left to my own devices. Actually, thank you for reminding me what courage actually _is_ ; you've been my best example of that particular virtue since - well, to be honest, since your father."

James couldn't help it, he had to hug Percy's middle _tight_ at that, still staying quiet, still keeping his eyes closed. He felt Percy shift slightly, move his cheek from James's hair to his forehead as he gathered him in close, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

"I'm so sorry I talked to your mother before talking to you. You deserved that much, and given my _experience_ with the discoveries you've been making lately, I of all people should have known how huge and terrifying they can be. I should have seen what was actually happening, and tried to help _you_ , but instead I only thought of myself, my own preservation. You deserved better from me, and I'll always be sorry I disappointed you."

Percy sucked in a breath and held it, for a moment, before expelling it slowly and continuing, his voice deliberately neutral. "Ah, that having been _said_ , I...well, given your own frankness, I should probably own up to the fact that when I talked to G - your mother, it was as much for my own sake as for yours. Possibly more."

James's eyes blinked open at that, and he tilted his head up, to try to catch sight of his uncle. "Say whatnow?" he asked, unable to keep silent anymore. Apparently despite himself, Percy snorted, and smiled faintly.

"Of course you'd find _that_ bit the most interesting," he said wryly. "James, honestly. You're a fifteen-year-old -

"Sixteen!"

"Fine, _sixteen_ -year-old boy who kept poncing about my house with no shirt on - don't _think_ I didn't know what you were doing, by the way. You were driving me mad."

James thought about this for a moment before the knut dropped. And then he grinned. "Ohhhh. With _lust_ , you mean."

"Do bear in mind that I have been _alone_ for the better part of a decade," Percy replied, reaching down to tweak James's nose. "It was hardly a skillful conquest."

James sniggered, his mood lightening considerably as he replayed this new information in his head - yeah, he'd been an idiot, but at least he hadn't been the _only_ idiot. "So you weren't just disgusted with me and firecalled Mum to try to get away from me, you were afraid your iron-clad will would crack and that you would molest me."

Percy huffed a laugh. "Or that you would start running around the house starkers, like a demented house elf."

James tilted his head and considered. "I did think about it," he admitted finally, pulling back just enough to be able to see Perce's face.

"I'll _bet_ you did, you little tart," Uncle Perce smirked at him, looking a bit pleased with himself.

James beamed, thoroughly relieved at how _normal_ everything suddenly was, again. For a given value of normal, admittedly - not everyone flirted openly with his relatives, James knew. "Well it's very lucky for you that I _didn't_ ," he said primly. "Probably you would've never recovered."

Percy smiled at that but didn't bother with a retort, looking him over for any trace of unhappiness, all protectiveness and attention to detail for a moment. "Better?" he finally asked James.

"Better," James replied firmly, still hugging Percy tight.

"Good," Percy nodded, rubbing one of James's shoulders. "Missed you, you know."

"Did you!" James beamed at him, delighted. "...Might've missed you too. A bit. In between the rounds of puking."

"Oh, did you think I meant _I_ missed you? Sorry, no, I meant the _house_ ," Perce shot back quickly, grinning as James barked a laugh. He sighed, and patted the top of James's head genially, still looking him over, and then seemed to decide on something that had been troubling him. Using the hand on his head, Percy pulled James forward, a little awkwardly, pressing a light kiss to his forehead.

Surprised, James went still at the unexpected contact, his eyes closing almost of their own accord. It was - well, he'd be lying if he said it was just as good as the pornographic kisses he'd been imagining, but it was sweet. Comforting. He sighed, and leaned into Percy a little, the two of them arrested in that position for a couple of minutes as they navigated their way back to safe waters.

Eventually, Percy pulled away, looking James over, and James had the distinct impression that Percy was memorising him, the way he'd done Perce earlier. "Thanks," James murmured quietly, tilting his chin a little so he could see Perce fully.

Percy gave him a crooked little smile, and nodded, his hand sliding down to cup the back of James's neck comfortably. "All right," he murmured back, and James closed his eyes for a second against a sudden bright ray of sun, waiting til it passed before opening them again.

And then while the sun was still in his eyes, James felt lips against his, gentle and surprising and warm. He sucked in a breath, shocked at Percy for actually _seizing a moment_ , and then he felt himself being gathered back in close and he managed to snake an arm around his uncle's shoulders, his eyes still shut tight, his lips tingling as they were kissed by a boy for the very first time.

He shivered, stretching up on his tiptoes as the kiss lingered on for breathless, priceless seconds, his hands finding Percy's hair and sliding into it. Percy rubbed his back, a thumbnail trailing up the knobs of his spine, and Jamie shivered and traced his fingertips down the side of Percy's neck. They stayed locked like that for the better part of a minute, the morning sun's rays barely managing to shine any light between them at all. James smiled a little, and his uncle's breath hitched oddly just before their mouths parted, with a small sigh. James immediately opened his eyes and _beamed_ , satisfied -

Percy had had his eyes closed for the kiss, too.

"Well, that cinches it," James said lightly, when he'd recovered. He was still hugging Percy, a hand in his hair. "I'm gay."

"Same," Percy managed a few seconds later, giving James a fierce hug before settling him back down on his own two feet. He looked...vaguely apologetic, which was a bit annoying, if totally typical. "It...seemed fitting," he explained lamely. "Just this once."

"It was," James assured him. "Thanks," he said, grinning a little, self-consciously proud of having had his first _real_ kiss.

Percy had the same sort of smile on his face for a whole three seconds, before he cleared his throat and reached for James's stone-cold cup of coffee and took a swig. "Ugh, _Merlin_ , that is _foul_ ," he gasped, giving James a horrified look. "How d'you drink this?"

"Probably better when it's hot," James shrugged, unconcerned. "Anyway, stop dawdling, we've got a list of shit I have to get done before I leave, and a lot of them involve the soaps I missed yesterday." He gave his uncle a quick grin and ran to get his bag from the foyer, the list was inside.

"Just promise you'll keep your shirt on for all of them," Percy sighed, as he dumped out his coffee and poured himself a new cup. And then he smirked, and headed into the living room and grabbed the remote.

 

***

 

_Four weeks later_

 

"Hiiii, hi hi hi," Mum crowed as soon as they all tumbled out of the car, dishes in hand. Gram was playing overseer to the requisite gaggle of urchins in Percy's front lawn, who were all shrieking and running after each other and falling down. "Everyone here already?"

"Yes, you can make your grand entrance," Gram replied, holding out her arms for Lily to give her a hug. "Did you bring the Chicken Surprise?"

"Ew, Mum, no," James's mum said, making a face. "Percy said _you_ were bringing it."

Gram blinked for a moment, long enough for James (and Albus. And Dad) to start sniggering, and sighed. "He couldn't have just said he didn't want it, oh no," she grumbled. "Everything has to be a _production_." James couldn't help conceding she had a point, privately.

"It's _Percy_ ," Mum said patiently. "How's he holding up, anyway? Regretting the whole birthday party idea, yet?"

"No, you know, it's _bizarre_ \- I actually heard him _laughing_ a little while ago." Gram did look a bit astounded at the recollection, though pleasantly so. She was distracted from the conversation by a couple of the brats getting into a shoving match and heaved a martyrish sigh before wading in. Lily and Albus and Dad had already made their way up to the house, but James was inclined to stick by his mum pretty closely, so he heard Gram's last murmured commentary. "He has a _date_ ," she told Mum, her voice ambivalent but leaning towards approval.

"Well it's about _time_ ," Mum replied, shifting the casserole dish, tucking it under one arm so she could slide the other around her boy's shoulders. "See you inside, Mum," she said cheerfully, though James thought he detected a little bit of an _order_ in the statement as well.

Mum kissed the top of James's head as they got up to the door and began threading through the crowd already gathered inside - god, it was the whole _lot_ of them, all shrieking and laughing and hurling insults they didn't really mean. James grinned a little, to himself, as he set down the meringue he'd been carrying on the groaning dessert table. Percy had obviously _lost his mind_.

"JAMIE!" a female voice shouted, above the din. James turned, just in time to be attacked by an amalgamation of bangles, glitter, and fruity perfume.

"Luce, hi," he wheezed, giving his little cousin a pat on the back as she hugged him effusively. " _Tell_ me you're trying for Quidditch this year, we could certainly use the tackling ability when we play Slytherin."

"Oh, don't be stupid, J," Lucy beamed, leaning back enough to straighten his shirt collar for him. "I don't want to play Quidditch, I'd get calluses on my hands."

"And thighs that could break necks," James pointed out, in the interest of fairness. Lucy tilted her head, considering. "And a free pass to the changing rooms, where you could ogle a half-naked Andrew Davies in comfort."

"You do have a point," she admitted. "I'll think about it. Anyway, that's not why I came over here. Dad told me you got him to do the birthday thing, so I figured I'd better come over and thank you properly. House looks great, by the way."

"Thanks, thanks," James said, blushing a bit. "Didn't do much. And all he needed was a little encouragement, your Dad. Might want to bear that in mind," he said, reproving.

"Oh, I know. He's lovely, when he wants to be - _ooh_ , you just got here, you probably haven't heard. He's got a _date_."

James's stomach gave an interesting little flip-flop, but he gave Luce a game smile. "I heard Gram say something about it."

"God, you should've _seen_ her face when she realised, Rose and I almost _died_ \- it's a man, of course. Love Dad as I do, I don't know _who_ he thought he was fooling all those years, he's gay as a spoon."

"Who is it?"

"Oh, some school-friend everyone remembers, _you_ know the drill. Quite fit for an old guy, actually." Lucy looked thoughtful for a moment, before grabbing James's hand and tugging him back into the fray. James barely had time to grab a glass of punch before the food table vanished from sight. "Come on, Dad'll want to see you, and you can see _The Date_ ," she said, making her voice sound ominous for the last two words. "Oh, god, and you _have_ to see what Victoire's wearing, it's _so_ unfortunate - "

James suddenly realised what was happening, and started smirking. "So who told you about me?"

Luce looked over her shoulder at him, and gave him a sly little smile. "Darling, everyone knew within twelve hours. I think I heard it from half a _dozen_ people."

"Ah." James's blush deepened. "Well, so you know, I don't give a fuck about shoes or handbags, and I can't cut hair."

"Brilliant, neither can I. Daddy!" Luce shouted, waving over the heads of various uncles and aunts, tugging James along with her as she navigated around an ottoman and came to stand by her father. "Look who I found," she beamed, patting James on the back.

"Hi," James said, giving Uncle Perce and - shit, the fucking _gorgeous_ man beside him a slightly stunned smile. "It's a shame about the party, I guess everyone was out of town and couldn't make it," he said drily, as he recovered.

Percy laughed, and tugged James into a quick hug (James tried to keep his eyes from closing, and almost succeeded). "I wish. I think everyone showed up just to see if I had begun decorating with house elf heads, or installed a dungeon."

"Ah. So did you _show_ them the dungeon?"

"You have a dungeon?" Tall Dark and Fuck-Me-Now said, sounding equal parts terrified and interested. James fought a sudden desire to close his eyes and demand the stranger just keep _talking_ , the hint of burr in his words had _no right_ being so attractive.

"It's where he keeps the house elf heads," James said, holding his hand out for the man to shake. "James Potter."

"Oliver Wood," Mr. Tie-Me-Up-Tie-Me-Down said, favouring James with a disgustingly perfect smile as they shook hands. "Perce _talks_ about you."

" _Does_ he," James said, giving Percy a too-innocent smile.

"I think you're his favourite," Wood said in a stage whisper, making both James and Percy blush a bit.

"I'm everyone's favourite," James said flippantly, trying not to flail like an eleven-year-old girl at the hot man paying attention to him.

"Not _mine_ ," Albus said as he sauntered by.

"You're a Slytherin, your opinions don't count," James called after him.

"Please don't bin me after tonight," Percy asked Oliver nicely. "It's not my fault."

"Daddy," Lucy said suddenly, turning everyone's attention back to where she thought it should be, "I heard Uncle George and Uncle Bill talking about having a game of Quidditch in the back yard a few minutes ago."

"Oh, _christ_ , I _told_ them no, I have _Muggle neighbors_ ," Percy said, despairing. "Nevermind the ten thousand regulations it'd be breaking and the possibility of broken bones." He gave them all a helpless look, and gave Oliver a quick squeeze before he broke away. "I'll be right back, I have to go hide the brooms. James, don't let anyone scare him," Percy ordered, taking his daughter's hand so she could lead him out to where the offending uncles were plotting.

James and Oliver exchanged small, slightly embarrassed smile, and James took the first sip of his drink, idly wishing it was neat liquor. Or bleach. "So," Oliver began gamely.

"So," James agreed. He waited a whole three seconds out of politeness before continuing. "If you hurt him, I'll have my dad have you killed."

To his credit, Oliver just raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Understood."

"I mean it. I know people."

"I'm sure. Though, you know, I haven't held out for two and a half decades just to fuck up now," Oliver said frankly. "Anyway, I hear you're Gryffindor's Quidditch Captain."

"Yeah," James averred, giving Oliver a suspicious look, fighting an urge to not hate the guy.

"I was too," Wood said. "Played with your dad, actually."

James blinked, suddenly liking Oliver a bit. "Really?"

"Yup. He was brilliant. Best Seeker I've ever seen, total natural on a broom."

"That's cos you've never seen _me_ ," James said archly, tilting his chin a little, giving the man a smile. And then a lightning bolt hit him, and he gaped. "Wait, _Oliver Wood_. Dad _talks_ about you, he says you were _mental_ about practices. That's where I got the idea for 4 a.m. drills!"

"Jesus, you manage to get your team out at _four_? I couldn't get any of the lazy sods up before six on a _good_ day," Oliver said.

"The _trick_ ," James confided, leaning close conspiratorially, "is _Sousa_. Blare it in their dorms til they give up and come outside to get away from it."

"That's bloody brilliant," Oliver breathed, eyes wide. James couldn't help grinning at him a little. "Might borrow that idea for next season, if you don't mind."

"No, of course," James said, gesturing expansively. "Puddlemere, yeah?"

"Yeah. Bit of a crap year last time, but they got rid of the old defence manager and made me head, so." Oliver pumped his fist feebly. "Four months to whip them into shape, anyway."

"Oh, four months, that's good. You know, you might consider having them start with a few days of rugger," James suggested. "Sounds totally insane, I know, but it makes them not rely on fancy broom tricks so much. Willing to get their hands dirty."

Oliver considered the idea, nodding slowly. "Interesting. How many Quidditch Cups have you lot won?"

"Every single year I've been Captain," James boasted, proud. "Though I had a hell of a team. Half of them left at the end of last year, this term's going to be a nightmare, trying to replace them."

"Dunno, got your eye on anyone?"

"Well, _Luce_ , if she'll stop being such a _girl_. And Lily's not bad, when she puts her mind to it." James launched into a detailed description of Gryffindor's Quidditch prospects, pausing and listening intently when Wood offered a few bits of...actually damned helpful advice.

"Look," Oliver said eventually, after they'd exhausted topics of conversation about Hogwarts Quidditch, "this might be counting your ashwinders before they're hatched, but - this is your last year, yeah?"

"Yeah," James said, feeling a familiar flutter of nerves as he thought about impending NEWTs and growing up.

"Well, when you're done, you should come and see me. About a job, I mean." Oliver shuffled his feet bashfully, squared his shoulders. "Frankly, the team could really use someone with your experience and head for strategy."

"Yeah?" James beamed. "Brilliant. Really, that sounds _brilliant_ , thanks." And he _kept beaming_ , like an idiot, gazing up at Oliver like he was God.

Oliver beamed back, and James realised that poor Wood had been _nervous_ about extending the offer. He cursed himself for an easily-won-over tart, and immediately developed a small crush on Percy's date. "Oh, er - " Oliver glanced over James's shoulder and winced. "'Scuse me a minute, James," he said, scurrying away from where they'd been standing, heading into the crowd.

Nonplussed, James turned and watched his progress, confused for a moment til he heard the familiar sound of raised Weasley voices. He scanned the crowd, and slumped as he realised what was going on - Perce and George were having a go at each other, just in front of the back door. He watched, frozen in place, as Oliver threaded through the crowd and reached between the two of them, knocking the Quaffle George was holding up out of his hands. James grinned and rolled his eyes at the small performance, at the way Wood quickly pacified George and sent him outside, all smiles and jokes, and then turned to Perce.

"Ridiculously perfect, isn't he?" Luce asked, appearing at James's side with a new glass for him. James sighed, and took it and sipped.

"Yeah, pretty much," he admitted, watching Oliver pull his Uncle Percy into a corner and give him a tight hug, their foreheads touching as he whispered something that made Percy deflate and slump against him. "Wankers."

"Ugh, I know. D'you want to go find Dad's liquor cabinet and spike the punch?"

James considered for a moment, and then nodded and let himself be led away.

 

Knowing perfectly well that he was being a sad fuck and a bit of a girl, James let himself indulge in a spot of self-pity as he hid in Molly's bedroom, away from the shrieks and laughter of the party below. He scanned Molly's books, but nothing caught his fancy, so he flumped down onto the bed and grabbed what was either a stuffed duck or a very ugly doll, and gazed at it for a moment before tucking it behind his head and curling towards the window.

He _was_ actually glad for Perce. And a bit jealous even, Wood was fantastic. Still, though. He sighed heavily, and closed his eyes, and almost didn't hear the soft knock on the open bedroom door.

"Jamie?"

James turned enough to glance over at the door, and immediately sat up, giving Teddy a pleased look as he slipped into the room. "Didn't know _you_ were going to show up," he said.

"Stranger things have happened," Ted said, giving James a small smile as he came to sit on the opposite end of the bed. James watched him idly, watched Teddy stretch across the bed to crack the window open and then reach into the pocket of his ancient corduroy blazer and produce a slightly-squashed pack of cigs. "How're you?" he asked, pulling one out of the pack with his teeth, using the tip of his wand to light it. James watched, oddly fascinated, as Teddy spelled the smoke to drift entirely out of the open window.

"All right. Just - y'know, wanted to get away from the zoo for a moment." James reached for the duck/doll, and fiddled with its button eyes for a bit, until one of them accidentally popped off in his hand. "...Fuck," he muttered, and quickly set the thing down, giving Teddy an innocent look. "How've you been? _Where_ have you been, come to that? Haven't seen you in ages."

"Gringotts had me in Cairo for the digs," Teddy explained. James nodded, and looked him over - Teddy _was_ quite tanned, and he looked somehow _older_ than he had the last time James had seen him. His face had gone all planes and angles, and there was no spare flesh on him anywhere. "Bill showed me around, while I was there."

"That was nice of him, considering." James winced at Teddy's casual little shrug. "Heard Mum talking. Apparently Victoire's pregnant."

"Yeah, I know. She owled me. Good thing she had the wedding when she did, or there would've been talk," he said, with a slight smirk.

"Merlin, Ted, m'sorry," James murmured, scooting closer. Teddy sighed and stretched out on the bed diagonally, and gave him a quick grin, his hair turning from its normal mousy brown into a sudden brilliant red, and back again.

"Really, it's all right. I know everyone expected me to be heartbroken and all, but - eh." He gave another shrug. "We were always better as friends. Anyway, that's old news, and I've heard a few _rumours_ going around about a certain someone," he said, giving James an expectant grin. James cottoned on after a second, and groaned.

"God, they should've put it in the _Prophet_ and had done," he groused, flopping down onto his stomach, curling up a little to give Teddy room. They're not rumours, by the way, but aside from that it's all just _boring_."

"Don't think I believe that," Teddy said, poking James in his knee, taking a drag from the cigarette and tilting his chin so he didn't blow smoke in James's face. "Come onnn, Jamie, let's hear it."

James gazed at him for a moment, and then shifted up, turning so that they were facing the same way. "Your funeral," he decided finally, and then launched into the whole sordid farce.

Twenty minutes later, Teddy was staring wide-eyed up at the ceiling of Molly's bedroom. "Fuck," he muttered, fingers fumbling for another much-needed cigarette, after that tale of woe.

"Yeah, I _know_. Totally mental. I went _totally. mental_ ," James agreed.

"Oh, don't be so hard on yourself," Ted said practically, lighting up again. "It's not so uncommon as you think."

"Is it not?"

"Well...poncing about shirtless, _that_ was a bit mental." Teddy grinned at James's little squawk. "But you didn't _do_ anything, and it's obvious you helped the man a bit. Doubt he was planning this party at the beginning of the summer, now, was he?"

James smiled and ducked his head. "Dunno. And y'know, intensely wonderful person though I am, it's not really _that_ heart-warming to think that my halfarsed attempts at getting m'leg over have only inspired my victims to make sweeping changes in their lives. And start dating other people."

"It's not exactly the norm, no. Most saints just...I dunno, cry tears of blood, or get beheaded."

"There's always next summer, I suppose."

Teddy snorted, his eyes going a bright blue with merriment for a couple of seconds. "Don't shortchange yourself, you might manage a minor miracle during term."

"Yes. Maybe I'll manage to turn someone _straight_ just by looking at them," James grumbled, knocked out of his moment of self-pity by Teddy laughing at him and hitting him over the head with a stuffed animal. "Oi!"

"Oi yourself. I think you'll agree that I've been a _very_ good god-brother about letting you whine to me about your Grand Passion for one of your relatives, but now I'm telling you that you need to stop feeling sorry for yourself and come downstairs," Teddy ordered, propping up on an elbow to gaze down at James more easily. "Luce was looking for you, and Hermione brought cream puffs."

"She didn't make them, did she?"

Teddy scoffed. "Of course not, Uncle Ron did. I'll even save you a seat beside me and I'll get good ones, for when George and Angelina have their row." (It was a Weasley Party Tradition.)

James had to think about it for a second or two, but then he nodded. "All right." He sat up, and offered Teddy a hand to help.

Ted took it and tugged himself up as well, and put an arm across James's shoulders to give him a chummy squeeze, pressing their heads together for a moment. James closed his eyes for a second, inhaling the familiar, intensely home-y smell of cigarette smoke and sweet amber and old leather that was Teddy. "Sorry you've had such a crap time, Jamie," he murmured, cheek pressed to his hair. "It'll get better, I promise."

"Yeah?" James smiled a little, comforted despite himself (he'd always hero-worshiped Ted, a bit) as he leaned against the other boy easily. "You'd better hope so. Now you've said that, it's _your_ fault if things keep on being shit."

"Always liked a challenge," Teddy grinned, turning his head so his nose was buried in James's hair. They both sighed, in unison, and stayed like that for a bit, too comfortable and cosy to move. "Come on," Teddy finally groaned, pulling away and standing, offering his hands to James to help tug him up.

James gave him a crooked grin and grasped his hands, whooshing up quickly, so fast he almost knocked into Ted. "Oof - jesus. Showoff," he groused, no real anger behind his words.

"Sorry," Teddy said, not sounding sorry at all, actually _grinning_ as little as he helped steady James and then straightened his collar for him. "Feel better?"

"Mm," James said, nodding, tilting his chin helpfully. He reached up to straighten one of Teddy's lapels, and then to smooth down a piece of wavy brown hair that was sticking up. "Yeah, lots. Thanks, Ted," he said, meaning it.

"No problem," Teddy said, clapping a hand on his shoulder as they moved towards the door, smiling and quickly taking care of how James's shirt-tag was sticking out of the back of his collar. James gave him a quick, grateful grin, his hand on the doorknob -

\- and was suddenly pulled sharply, by the back of his shirt, being whirled around til his back was pressed against the solid wood of the door. "Ted, wh - " he managed, eyes wide with shock, before he registered the pressure of Teddy's lanky body all against his and the way he was being _pushed_ against the door. The rest of his question died on his lips, replaced by a startled, intensely gratified moan as for the first time ever he felt the wet, biting, sucking heat of a mouth sliding over the skin of his neck.

James grabbed onto Teddy's shoulder for support, a little lightheaded at the speed of events. After the first ten seconds however, his mind caught up with his body and James wholeheartedly gave himself over to being ravished, managing a couple of gaspy little instructions before he had an idea and just slid his fingers into Teddy's hair and _tugged_ til Ted's mouth moved where he wanted it to _go_.

" _God_ ," he whimpered, his head thunking back against the door, the sound loud in the otherwise silent bedroom. "ow."

Muffled against his neck, Teddy began sniggering, even as he kept kissing James's skin, gentler than before. "Don't hurt yourself," he advised. "What would you tell your Mum?"

"Blame it on Albus," James managed after a moment, though he did have to interrupt himself with a little gasp. He closed his eyes, and let his head loll against the door, and began to laugh quietly. "Not that I'm _complaining_ , mind, but what the _hell_?"

Teddy tilted his head, just enough to give James a heated glance from under dark eyelashes that made his toes curl, and then actually pulled away from his neck enough to look him over, a little proprietary. "You and I should really have lunch, before you head off to Scotland," he said, being a _deliberate_ knob by ignoring James's question in favour of Maintaining His Mysterious Air.

"Should we," James echoed, raising an eyebrow at him. "When you say lunch, d'you mean 'food' or d'you mean doing this, but for an hour?"

"We can't do both?" Teddy asked, giving him a sharp, possessive little grin, hovering close to him, teasing. James sucked in a quick breath and couldn't help staring at Teddy's mouth instead of replying. Teddy grinned, suddenly, and James knew he'd been caught out and rolled his eyes, blushing. "You know, I _wondered_ how long I was going to have to wait for you to come out," Teddy said, leaning closer in, til James could feel the slide and pop of Teddy's breath on his own lips. He felt his eyes closing, but couldn't do much to stop them, it seemed.

"Yeah?" James grinned, something in his stomach writhing pleasurably at the thought. "Should've done something about it, helped speed the process along."

"Don't think I didn't consider it," Teddy said wryly, just before brushing his lips against James's, the barest hint of a touch. "We'd better get downstairs."

James's eyes managed to snap open at _that_ , long enough to give Teddy an outraged look, just before he lunged.

 

***

 

Oliver had been roped into a game of croquet, the only "sport" Percy said he felt at all safe allowing in his back yard, and even _then_ only after he'd jinxed the mallets and balls and wickets into repelling any sort of magic except the original spell. And then he, Perce, had retreated into the house for a breather, finding a quiet spot on the upper half of the staircase. He leaned his forehead against the stair rails, and sighed.

"All right, Perce?" came a voice behind him. He turned, and gave Teddy a smile.

"Yes, all right. Having fun?" he asked. He blinked as Teddy just gave him a bright grin in response and clattered down the stairs, looking happier than he had in ages. Percy snorted a startled laugh, and went back to people-watching.

"What're you doing up here, that's your party," a voice called, startling him. Perce turned again, and budged up to let James take a seat beside him on the stair. "Having fun?"

"Yes, it all just got a bit..." Percy began, but trailed off, his eyebrows knitting together. He gave James a sharp, searching look. "Teddy's here."

"Is he?" James gave Percy a small, maddeningly placid smile. "Isn't that nice, him coming in for your birthday."

"Yes, he's a very nice young man," Percy said, still giving James that narrow look. "Always thought so."

"Me too. You know, he used to babysit me and Albus when Mum and Dad needed a break? He taught me how to write my name." James smiled fondly, at the memory, his eyes going faraway for a moment before he snapped back to the present and gave Percy a grin. " _And_ he was my prefect. Showed me how to find books in the library and helped me with homework. Oh, and in my second year, I had bronchitis, and he brought me my assignments and helped me do them. And tucked me in _every night_ , he was brilliant," he finished.

"Sweet of him," Percy conceded, nodding, giving James a sly, suspicious curl of a smile. "Did you know that for seven years, Oliver and I shared a dorm room at Hogwarts?"

"Oh, that's _not fair_!" James squawked, _completely_ losing his poker face, sending Percy into waves of laughter. "That's not _fair_ , did you really? _All seven years_? Did anything ever - ?"

"Yes, really, seven years," Percy said, having to take his glasses off to wipe his eyes, still giggling at James's outrage. "And no, nothing ever happened. At least, I don't _think_." James sucked in another scandalised breath, so Percy explained quickly.

"Our final year, Gryffindor finally won the Quidditch Cup. Oliver stole a bottle of firewhisky from _somewhere_ and we drank the entire thing between the two of us, because I couldn't just let him get drunk on his _own_. Anyway, we woke up at three the next afternoon, both in Oliver's bed, both wearing Oliver's Quidditch pads. _Only_ Oliver's Quidditch pads. I don't _think_ anything happened," he finished, lamely.

James gaped at him for a moment. "That's evil. You're _evil_. Why is everyone my age so _boring_?" he complained, hiding his head in his hands for a moment. "Except Teddy, he's brilliant," he amended a moment later. He glanced over, and found Perce smirking at him oddly, sprawled back on his elbows, his legs spanning half the staircase, and James blushed. "He snogged me in Molly's bedroom," he confided. "Er, don't tell Molly."

"I won't. How was that, then?" Uncle Perce asked, his smile fading into something a little more pensive as he looked James over, at the cheerful, animated lines of him.

"Oh, _brilliant_ , he - well, he's good at it. And he wants us to go on - I dunno, can two boys _go_ on 'dates'?" James paused to consider that, but didn't wait for Percy to answer, just ploughed ahead. "We're going to go into town and do stuff together til I have to go back to Hogwarts and then he's going to come up to Hogsmeade when there are school weekends, he says."

"Good," Percy said, obviously relieved. "That sounds fantastic, actually."

"Yeah?" James tilted his head and gave Perce a sheepish, anxious little smile. "Really?"

"Absolutely." Perce gave him a private sort of smile, and cupped a hand over his shoulder, squeezing it lightly. "Want to go get another cup of punch and see if we can get George to start on about Angelina's mother?"

James considered for a moment. "Nah, too easy. I say this time we get _Angelina_ going about how George is always at work and doesn't help with the kids."

"Oh, good idea," Percy said, pleased, as he pushed himself to his feet and turned to help James. They tripped down the stairs and into the kitchen for punch (well-spiked, thanks Luce), and between their combined efforts, managed to get George and Angelina at each other's throats within twenty minutes, a new family best. James didn't even mind that Oliver stepped in just before things reached their breaking point, bullying George into the laundry room for a brief chat that had George looking chastened when they both emerged.

The way Percy's eyes shone as he watched the whole exchange made James's heart twist - in ways that weren't actually _painful_ , he realised with a start. Percy swore him to silence about their role in the George-Angelina debacle, and then flitted over to drape himself over his perfect boyfriend. James happily left them to it, and wandered outside.

 

James found Teddy occupying a lounge chair that was just big enough for the both of them, provided they didn't mind not having any personal space. Teddy was good for cuddling, and even draped his dad's old blazer over James when the night cooled off, and they spent the next three hours talking about Ted's adventures in Cairo and James maybe working for Puddlemere next year and where they'd always wanted to travel. Which, eventually, segued into tentatively planning out the next forty years of their lives together.

Which, of course, segued into a bit more quiet snogging as soon as everyone wandered out of the back yard and inside, preparing to leave. His Mum saw them when he and Ted finally stumbled back inside, the tips of their fingers laced together, and she gave Jamie a subtle thumbs-up before ordering him to help clear up the glasses and plates from the living room.

 

It was at least the sixth trip he'd made into the kitchen that night, which was the funny part, James thought later. He dumped an armful of dishes into the soapy water in the sink and leaned against the sideboard for a moment, making sure the scouring charm was still working. And then he moved back towards the living room, almost missing it _again_ , only stopping because the shadows on the grandfather clock seemed a bit different, somehow.

And _that's_ when he saw it, alone and full of plans and perfectly content in the half-lit kitchen of Percy's house - a house bursting, suddenly, with laughter and life and _hope_.

There, on the face of the grandfather clock, a fourth hand had appeared with his picture and his name inscribed on it.

It was pointing firmly to " _Home_."


End file.
